


Creature Fear

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, and has 2 different endings., the one where they have a kid named River
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: The life and times of the daughter of the Sky Princess and the Commander of the Thirteen Clans.





	1. Chapter 1

The night was warm, humming and singing itself to sleep with the sound of insects strumming and crooning. The tent was warm, with barely a breeze and the sound of the clan outside, restless with the warmth and inability to sleep, worshiping the very last minutes of the day and prolonging it as long as the weather would allow it.

Tired and yawning, Clarke dozed in bed, waiting for Lexa to pat down the fire and join her, though she was stubborn and wrapped up with more important things. It was that sight, the baby in her arms, that made Clarke smile despite the exhaustion in her bones. There were no better sights, of that she was certain.

“Nomon,” she heard Lexa whisper to the yawning baby. Their daughter let out a tiny noise, much too young to think about anything like proper words, but still loving making her own noises. It did not deter Lexa though. “Nomon,” she smiled and rocked her arms softly. “Ai laik nomon.”

Wiggling and clad in just a cloth diaper, their daughter shook her head and nuzzled deeper into the warrior’s arms. Lexa was a goner when she saw her, Clarke told her as much and was surprised to get agreement on this fact. But overwhelmed and terrified, Lexa held the baby on the day she was born, and she agreed too easily that she was, in fact, a goner. It was apparent every moment they were together. 

“Let her sleep,” Clarke instructed, rolling over in the bed to face her wife.

“I do not get to hold her enough,” Lexa shook her head, distracted by her wife and her curves outlined in the bed. “How do you put her down?”

“Mostly so other people can hold her,” Clarke confessed. “And so she can sleep.”

“She gets bigger every day,” the commander complained, looking back at the almost sleeping baby.

“Look at my girls,” Clarke smiled and memorized them there, in the middle of their home.

Strong and tall and slender, covered in dark ink shadows and pale, violent scars, Lexa smiled slightly, eyes big and seeing everything. Her emotions were always tempered, always beneath something, swallowed and whispered. But the baby in her arms magnified them, unmuted them, untempered them slightly.

Their daughter slept, lips parted, fist curled tightly, dark hair jutting up. She was capable of the world’s most delicious giggles that the mothers gobbled up greedily. She was capable of these looks that reminded Clarke too often of Lexa, like she was thinking forty-thousand thoughts at once, figuring you out and disarming you before you knew what was happening.

Between the two standing there, Clarke was not sure she would ever be able to understand life.

“Come to bed,” she tried again.

“Just a few more minutes.”

Clarke watched Lexa slowly walk around the hut, whispering more words for the baby to learn.

* * *

Though the weather grew colder, grew chillier, grew more stiff, Lexa missed no free minute to be with their daughter. Between scouts or hunts, she could be found, most eagerly, stealing the crawling, active toddler from whoever had her, and most noticeably, shuffling along paths with her standing atop her feet, arms stretched high.

Clarke saw it happen one day as she returned home from helping on a house call to a sick family on the edge of the property. Saw the group of giant, overstuffed, broad and menacing men clap and wave as Lexa walked through them, bent over and leading their daughter by the hands stretched high. Her steps were unsure and slow, wobbly and jerky, not much less graceful than a newborn foal.

Warpaint and armour on, Lexa smiled and moved slowly, showing off the strength, the dexterity, the amazing thing that was her daughter. The large, overbearing men, half covered with masks of bones and other skulls, smiled and watched the little girl move and laugh.

It was too much work for Clarke to stand there and watch. But it was impossible for her to interrupt.

She watched the pride on her wife’s face, the way she looked at the toddler like nothing of the world mattered.

At night, while the baby slept and Lexa kissed her wife, felt her, made her ache, Clarke saw that look directed at her, and she knew that it was reserved for them, for the things Lexa would die before lose.

In the dark, Lexa told her stories, told her things she was excited for with the baby, told her about her first everything, her first kill, her first hunt, her first ceremony, her first trip to the capital, her first ride, her first night outside, her first day as a second.

Clarke watched her wife turn around and begin to walk again, the baby’s pink cheeks dimpled and smiling up at her mother.

* * *

As she grew, the daughter of the Sky and the Ground, was a shadow to everyone, a leader among a children clan, a warrior, a thinker, impetuous and wild, compassionate and empathetic to a fault. When she could, she would be found trailing after the Commander, the two deep in thought and conversation. River mades her mother laugh, she had a knack for it. She made her proud, too, something she was told every so often and craved. She made her mad, learned how to navigate the waters of her wrath, slowly.

Neither mother could take claim to the tempestuous whirlwind that existed between them, and instead insisted that it is the other’s fault, the other’s pride, the other’s bullheadedness, the other’s smarts, the other’s kindness, the other’s foolhardiness. Their daughter was neither sky nor earth, but of rain and storms and fire. Her humour, her eagerness, her insistence to soak up everything excelled beyond her mothers.

“Long and smooth,” Lexa explained, running the knife along the sharpening stone. She watched the little girl do the same, wielding each as best she could.

Braids and dirt smeared across her chin with a collection of scrapes from her misadventures trying to keep up with the Seconds, her daughter was perfect. She had Clarke’s propensity for adventure, for passion and feeling that she tried and often lost the battle to control. She was a lightning bolt.

The summer of her ninth year, Lexa began to train. Small things, tiny games she used to play that helped her. She let her follow more. She saw her asking Clarke a million questions, hanging from her neck, stuck to her back like an animal, the mother laughing and answering. Lexa knew that Clarke was better at their daughter. More able to love her, to hold her, to have those moments, to make up funny stories. Lexa struggled under the enormity of figuring out how to make River laugh.

Clarke saw them by the fire before bed, talking and not talking. Her daughter smiled, unable to resist, mimicking her mother’s movements. She did not like the idea of her with a weapon, but this was the world they lived in, so she allowed Lexa tiny moments to teach their daughter things, and she returned to her book warily.

“Did you win?” Lexa asked, surveying the cuts on her daughters tiny knuckles. She had already heard the story, felt a pride at it, smiled and hid it when her general told her of the scuffle.

“Mom already yelled at me,” River slowly did what Lexa did, dragging the metal along the stone. She liked to hear her daughter speak her language. She did not have the accent of her wife. She did not have one when she spoke English either.

“Yes, but did you win?” Lexa smiled slightly when her daughter looked up with that smile that was pure trouble, unbridled rebellion, religious confidence.

“Two hits,” she nodded. Her cheeks dimples like her wife’s. Her hands were clumsy as her wife’s were, though she tried.

“Why did you fight him?”

“He said I was a sky princess,” River complained, another long swish.

“You are,” Lexa chuckled, holding the blade up. She chanced a small glance at her wife, regal, neck long and eyes dancing across the page as she read. She realized she had a life full of tiny princesses from the sky.

“I’ve never been to space,” the little girl shook her head.

“Your mother is a sky princess. You are a sky princess. Do not let anyone ever take that away from you.”

“But I want to be both, I would rather be a commander, and I don’t like that name.”

“You are both,” Lexa nodded. “You hold my grandmother’s blade. My father held it. I held it. We all learned to take care of it. You are rooted and made in dirt and from sky.”

“When will I become a second?”

“When you stop fighting anyone who makes you mad.”

“It’s time for bed, Riv,” Clarke stood and pinched her eyes.

“Keep it,” Lexa shook her hand as her daughter moved to hand the blade back.

“Really?”

“You will need it,” Lexa nodded. She was surprised, always surprised, as her daughter threw her arms around her neck. It was a slow adjustment, to these moments, Rigid at first, Lexa tok a deep breath and let herself be hugged.

* * *

“If it is anything bigger than a rabbit, we will have words,” Clarke peered at her wife, sizing her, warning her, fretting blatantly.

“She’s twelve,” Lexa shrugged and shook her head, arguing. “It’s time.”

“Have the talk,” Clarke ignored this fact. “Life is to be treasured. Death should not be easy.”

“I know,” Lexa nodded while Clarke held her collar. She watched he watch her lips, watched her think too much.

“Nothing bigger than a doe. No bucks,” Clarke tried again. “Don’t get frustrated with her. Praise her when she earns it. Watch her. Not out of your sight.”

“I have taken our daughter outside of the gates before,” Lexa reasoned. “Look at how excited she is.”

Both leaders looked at the gangly little girl with a bow in her hands, knife strapped to her side. Clarke wondered what Lexa looked like growing up. She figured it was something like the awkward thing helping the large men prepare for the hunt. She was tall, lean, shedding baby fat quickly with her constant activity. Beside the men and women who were full grown and knowing about blood, she looked even younger than she was.

“She only wants to make you proud,” Clarke reminded the Commander.

“She does,” Lexa insisted quickly. “More than anything. People mention what she has done and I feel like my bones are made of steel.”

“Tell her,” Clarke nodded.

“They say she is going to have the spirit,” Lexa smiled, eyeing her wife greedily. Clarke saw it in her. The fierce, the savage, the violent turbulence.

“Not if we dibbs her first,” Clarke smiled at the way confusion seeped into Lexa’s eyes. “Not if we Sky People claim her first.”

“The first Princess Commander,” Lexa smiled at the joke once she understood.

“Be safe,” Clarke kissed her quickly and sent her out with her people. For longer than necessary, Clarke watched the party head out into the world, her daughter walking beside her wife, their poses the same.

Two days later, Clarke was there when her guard let her know that the party was returning. She walked as fast as she could, a crowd forming to see what the little commander, the little princess managed to do. It was an unofficial test that bore more weight than Lexa let her daughter know.

There was a grumble of approval, a small chant, a dull roar as the hunters came back. Clarke stood, aghast and frozen seeing her daughter with blood smeared on her cheeks. River did not run and hug her mother as she wanted, but she nodded in her direction and smiled, unable to contain it. Clarke offered a weak smile in return and blinked quickly.

“Is that…?” she whispered to her wife.

“He was stalking the same boar,” Lexa said, purposefully nervous, spending the last few hours preparing for her wrath. The set of Clarke’s jaw told her she was going to get it good.

“Tell me someone helped. Someone else did this,” Clarke growled as the village helped unload and begin preparations.

“She saw him before any of us,” Lexa confessed. Clarke’s fists clenched.

“You let our twelve year old,” her voice rose and she turned around, she looked at the sky, she held her breath, she stayed close to Lexa who wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. “Our little girl,” Clarke cleared her throat and started to whisper again, though it came out rough and Lexa had no doubt about her feelings. “Kill a wolf? What does no bigger than a deer mean to you?”

“Well, he is big, but he was shorter,” Lexa tried.

“She did that herself?” Clarke worried.

“Yes,” Lexa nodded.

“How?”

“I have no idea,” Lexa agreed as they both surveyed the large predator that was being strung up and skinned, their daughter eagerly learning from Octavia. “They chanted her name. She is respected.”

“Remember when she couldn’t walk?” Clarke sighed. Lexa nodded, soft at first and then more eagerly.

* * *

The sky was painted blue and purple and pink and gold. The stars were coming, shortly. Fires burned throughout the village, adding to the sky a smoke and cloud and stars of their own.

The wolf-killer grew up tall and strong. Her turbulent, passionate streak tempered, though reared its head often. She had the defiance of a true leader. Her smile came easily, her love was given eagerly. She was unchallenged in combat, unmatched in agility, insurmountable in smarts. There was a love in her, a hope felt by everyone who remembered the mountain and the fall from the heavens. The belief and fruition of the future encapsulated in one person who moved freely between the camps.

But the daughter of the land and the sky felt that burden, carried it, was never neglectful of what she was to them. She struggled with ruthlessness, unable to fathom the decisions of the history before her.

To Clarke, she was a summer day. To Lexa, a shooting star.

They had visitors from other clans. The people in the capital remarked upon her beauty. There was no shortage of suitors trying to keep up with her, though none stuck. Until Thomas, her mother’s healer apprentice at the Ark. And even he was only welcomed because River chose him, liked the way he spoke, liked his ability to fix up wounded horses and how he whispered to them at night. If she wanted to escape him, she could. He knew that.

“She’ll be here,” Clarke whispered to her anxious wife.

“We leave at dusk,” the Commander heaved a breath and adjusted her belt. “That boy. That Sky boy.”

“He’s good,” Clarke reaffirmed. The crowds mingled at the gates. The seconds prepared for their first official night patrol. “She’s smart.”

“I was smart once. Until I met someone who fell out of the sky,” Lexa disagreed.

“Heda, apologies,” River sprinted and moved through the crowd. She swallowed and tried to discreetly catch her breath. She flashed a smile at Clarke and gave her a wink.

“You have responsibilities,” Lexa began a familiar diatribe.

“And I am looked to as a leader,” her daughter finished. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was distracted.”

“I hope you are not distracted out there, tonight,” Clarke stopped her wife from yelling.

“Never,” her daughter promised, cheeks inflating, dimples appearing.

The fangs of a wolf were tattooed to her arm. Clarke looked at them and nodded, oddly comforted by it. She was not much older than her daughter was at this moment when she finished a war.

“I have thought of this,” Lexa took a step towards her daughter. “From the moment you were born.” She looked at the paint in the bowl in her hand. “I am very proud of you, and whoever you become.”

Her fingers shook just once as she went to work, dragging the paint around her daughters face. But she swallowed and lifted her chin and went to her work, applying the warpaint to her fresh skin.

“Go to your general,” Lexa nodded as she finished.

Her daughter looked at her for the first time with the paint on her face and she swallowed at what it would become to her.

“Thank you,” River smiled and tried to stop it, fought to hide it. She didn’t care, she hugged her mother tightly. Clarke watched it happen, watched her arms squeeze the commander.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve read that three times and it doesn’t get any less perfect, I don’t know how you write as beautifully as you do, it’s fucking art man, you make me fall in love with words all over again. Any chance we might get a bonus short scene from that prompt? Like the first time River beats Lexa in a play fight? Or Lexa catching River trying on her warpaint when she’s too little to know what it all means? I won’t just love you 4eva, I’ll love you 5eva. fuck 5eva. i want 6ternity.

She is one with the woods. Fifteen and gawky normally, when she slips from her boots and ties up her hair, River is lithe and a ghost in the forest, at home there in ways that make others uncomfortable. No one can keep up with her, her thin frame betraying her strength at first. She doubles back behind Thomas often, his loud footsteps unsure of untrodden paths. She laughs and he hears it before he sees her. He is clumsy and awkward and just as young, but that laugh, he will tell her one day, it was that laugh that convinced him he’d spend his life chasing her through thickets and brambles forever.

Clarke has set her bones many times already. Arms, ankles, a leg, ribs, all self-inflicted from climbing and jumping without looking for the landing. Her daughter’s body is littered with learning the hard way. She watches her disappear on her own, often, braids bouncing noiselessly, into the thickest parts of the forest. Despite her warnings, often she even spends nights out there, in her own world.

Lexa told the stories of her daughter when she travelled, when there were visitors. It was fourteen year old River who killed the black bear that killed three of their people and stuck around for more. It was River who raised a wolf pup, a deep grey, almost black shaggy thing she could barely keep fed. But it followed her around religiously as it grew, mimicking her own growth, skinny and mangy and tall. Her daughter was the tamer of wolves, the killer of bears. And she frequently caught words from her wife.

The Commander could not explain how her daughter came to be how she was, but she was simply a product of the sky and earth, and in that, a once-in-a-lifetime creation existed. She was the wind in the leaves and the stars at night. She was untameable, a truly wild thing.

“Dolf, Dolf, Dolf,” River clapped as she made her way back to the path that led home. She whistled low and waited for the lumbering pup to appear through the bushes. Like clockwork a few seconds later she heard the wolf emerge, nearly tackling her in his path. His paws on her shoulder, he was taller than her already. “We have to get home,” she shoved him as he knelt, ready to play. “A race then?” she grinned, lurching forward and stopping. “Go!” she took off the second time.

It was a sight to see, sprinting through the path, dodging those out and about, the girl and her pet. She took a shortcut, but still found him waiting for her at the gate, her mother rubbing his head.

“I was just going to head down to the lake,” Clarke didn’t look up at her daughter. “Imagine my surprise to see Dolf. When you are supposed to be helping your mom with training.”

“I hate fighting,” River complained. Clarke grinned and shook her head as the wolf sat and leaned against her, nearly knocking her over. “I was up at the mountain. There’s a herd of horses in the back plains. I saw them. Seven total.”

“You were supposed to help your mom,” Clarke repeated. “You told her you would.”

“I’m going now,” the daughter sighed and shook her excitement.

“Maybe you can show me the herd tomorrow?” Clarke asked, watching her daughter walk past, dejected.

“Yeah, we can go to the berry bushes on the far side of the mountain,” River smiled wildly.

“Take it easy on your mom. I’ll see you at dinner. Tell her I’m heading out.”

“Alright, Mom,” River nodded. “Take Dolf. Go,” she nudged her head and the wolf padded towards her mother. “It’s almost time for the big sleep. I saw tracks by the water a few days ago.”

“Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about missing your lessons either,” Clarke called as her daughter trotted down into the village.

“Love you!” River called, leaving her mother and the pet watching her disappear.

The paint went from her hair to her chin, long fangs on both sides of her face, over her eyes, red and white. She was good at it, now, after practicing in secret since she was a child playing in the mud with her friends. River pulled the paint across her face before approaching the training area where the seconds were waiting. She was younger than them, but was still forced to participate along with the other lessons.

Lexa gave her that glance, that disapproving, angry glance that told her she would be in trouble. It was not that she disliked spending time with her mother, just that fighting was boring, was not as fun as climbing the bald side of the waterfall, was not as exciting as seeing how far she could go before she didn’t recognize the land anymore. Fighting was old. There had not been a battle since before she was born.

“River, hand-to-hand with Octavia,” Lexa gestured and circled the groups.

Her daughter grinned and approached her aunt, her mentor. She knew how this went. She was to be punished. River pretended to play, went along with it slowly, didn’t fight as hard as she could, let go of some weak jabs, fell to the ground laughing.

“You’re brave today,” Octavia grinned, pulling her back up.

“There are wild horses,” River grinned, dirt smudging her chin. “I want to run with them. I can’t think of anything else.”

“Going to find a new pet?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“River!” Lexa called from the other side of the arena. Octavia gave her a look and River knew. “I need you to illustrate the break.”

The first time, River failed, unable to move her mother’s arms and being laid flat on her back with a big umpph as she did. This happened repeatedly, each time, River growing more and more frustrated. But Lexa knew this was the only way to spur her forward.

The fourth time she laid her mother down in a pile with the same noise. She smiled for a split second before furrowing and putting back the face.

* * *

“You should have seen it,” Lexa whispered excitedly, hands painting the ceiling. “She just… was so fast, so quick. Sometimes I’m not sure she has it, this edge, but when she’s mad, when she faces obstacles, when someone tells her no, she just… doesn’t listen to that.”

“And now you’re paying the price,” Clarke grinned pushing her wife’s shoulder back into place with a crack.

“Yeah, but still,” Lexa smiled, cringing slightly, her breath ragged and strained under the adjustments.

Out in the night they heard Dolf howling. Once an unsettling sound that pierced the evening, it was now a kind of reminder that there was an extra sentinel in the distance. Clarke knew where her daughter was by that sound, and she was sure she was with Thomas in the Sky camp.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Clarke sighed, adjusting her wife’s sling.

“Don’t,” Lexa turned to her, still dreamy eyed. “I don’t want her to be serious just yet. She’s serious enough. Give her a few more years chasing horses.”

“She’s almost sixteen,” Clarke reminded her rubbing Lexa’s neck.

“She hunted a bear on her own. She spends hours with the elders, runs back and forth helping your mother and Indra, nurses baby sparrows, doesn’t sneak around with that boy. Just let her ditch some responsibilities. She knows what is important already.”

Clarke kissed her wife’s cheek and dug into her neck, making her groan as the soreness fled. She hugged her neck and kissed her again and again and again.

“You just like playing angry. But you’re a big softie.”

“We grew up too quickly. I would be concerned if she were childish, but she is not. She’s just excited and in love with life and running barefoot, and I don’t want that to ever go away.”

“I love you,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her neck once more. “You’re a good mom. You’re a good leader.”

“Maybe we can all go out to see these horses tomorrow,” Lexa offered.

“I think she’ll like that.”

“How much time do you think we have until she gets home?”

“I told her before guard change.”

“So we have a little time alone?” Lexa smiled and pulled her wife into her lap, ignoring her painful shoulder.

“Oh, now you can pull someone over your shoulder,” Clarke held on to her tightly.

“I let her win,” Lexa smiled, nudging Clarke’s nose. “I wanted it to be on my own terms, when I’m unseated.”

“Whatever you say,” Clarke kissed her.

“Do you doubt my prowess?” Lexa lifted them both from the chair until her wife’s legs tightened around her waist.

“Never.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ll be nice, won’t you?” River fretted through the house, anxiously following her mother.

“I’m always nice,” Clarke insisted as she paused and thought about it for a moment before genuinely believing her words. “Why aren’t you worrying about Mom?”

“Because she is always terrifying, and you’re the loose cannon, contrary to what everyone else thinks. If you make her be nice, she will,” her daughter explained as Clarke stacked books on the table, clearing it slightly. “Please make her be nice.”

“I can’t make your mother do anything,” Clarke grinned and shook her head. “Get, Dolf,” she shooed the slumbering beast in the middle of the floor of their home.

Furrowed and emotive in her eyes, like the Commander, River sized up her mother and waited for her to realize how silly she sounded. Clarke patted her cheek and tried not to smile too much.

“Mom,” River groaned as Clarke walked past her.

“Whatever he wants to discuss, I can’t contain her,” Clarke sighed and checked her watch. “Tell him we’ll see him in the planning tent.”

“With the throne?” her daughter groaned, making Clarke chuckle. “Mom, please. You delivered him, you’re training him. You’ve known him forever. Why do you have to go through this?”

“It was his choice, and I have to say, your mom is going to enjoy it.”

“He’s not… he’s from the sky,” River sighed. “He isn’t used to our ways.”

“I was from the sky,” Clarke corrected. “And I learned quickly. If he wants this, then he’ll have to get used to our ways.”

He was not exceptionally thick, as far as Lexa could tell. His skin was clear of scars and cuts, his hair cut short, his face smooth and free from the occasional scruff she saw him with. Now, Thomas of the Sky People was wearing his best clothes, standing as firmly as he could, chest as puffed as he could make it, jaw as taut as possible, being appraised by the Commander and a handful of generals, all in armour, all in paint despite the lack of need for such formalities.

He knew of the warriors, trained a little during his mandatory rotation and three years in service. He just hadn’t the mind for battle and warfare or stalking. His hands were calloused and caked in rust from heaps of machines he tried to salvage. His day was spent with Abby and Clarke, learning everything he could about their medicine, and his nights were spent trailing Lincoln and learning about plants and illness. Standing in front of this extended family only made him more aware of how much he wished he’d payed more attention to training.

Lexa watched him. She twirled the blade in her hands and saw him. He was slender, his shoulders were wide, his neck long, hair blonde, eyes blue. He did not look like a warrior. But her daughter loved him, and she knew it was because at night he hung from the trees and named all of the stars and recited the stories her own wife once told her. Lexa heard them, heard him tell her about things River was too antsy to sit and learn. Lexa saw Thomas get into one fight. One of her thirds said something about River. He never hesitated to lay him out. Of course, he got up and took a licking, but it was the thought that counted.

“You wanted to see me?” Lexa absently twirled the blade.

“Yes, I. Yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat.

“We were just finishing up,” she nudged her head. “Leave us.”

The warriors filed out of the tent, standing tall over the young man, eyeing him, angry. He swallowed but didn’t move as Clarke came inside. She leaned over and kissed Lexa before taking a seat beside her.

“Hi, Tommy. You wanted to talk to us?” the doctor asked, breathlessly smiling. Lexa jammed the knife into the arm of the chair.

“I have been thinking,” he inhaled and held it, working up the nerve.

“People die for less,” Lexa peered at him. Clarke cleared her throat.

“Abby told me about when you asked for Clarke’s hand in marriage,” he started over again.

“What?” Clarke looked at her wife.

“Let the boy talk.”

“I have been working in the clinic for a few years now. I’ve done my rotation,” Thomas started again, nodding to himself. “I thought that when I completed training, I would be ready. But I can’t just do it because you are both not only the most important people in the village, but in her life.” He took another deep breath. “It’s hot in here.”

“Are you… I thought this was about… what are we?” Lexa leaned forward and looked at her wife.

“I love your daughter,” Thomas blurted.

“Oh no…” Clarke sighed.

“I don’t ever want to hurt her, and I would like your permission to ask her to marry me.”

The quiet was overwhelming. Clark thought about breathing but she was holding it because her wife was quick and sharp objects were near her and she didn’t want to see someone dead. Lexa squinted and peered at him before leaning forward in her chair. Thomas held his breath, suddenly aware of what he said.

Lexa stood and yanked the blade from her chair.

“Lex,” Clarke warned, though her wife didn’t look back.

“There are not many things that I have done well in my life,” the Commander took another step, looking at the weapon in her hands. “There are stories I have, things I’ve done, people I have hurt that would make you have night terrors for years.” She looked up at the boy as he lifted his chin and swallowed. “I do not have to tell you that I can hurt you in ways that will make you wish that you were never born. Do I?”

“No, heda,” Thomas shook his head eagerly. Clarke sat back in her chair and shook her head.

“I made her well,” Lexa took a step closer to him. “I made my daughter well.” The Commander looked back at her wife who smiled and pleaded. “I fell in love with someone from the sky. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Can you be the best thing that happens to my daughter?”

“I want to be,” he nodded and swore.

Lexa threw the knife so that it bore into her chair. Clarke glared at her as a warning.

“You will be,” Lexa never left his eyes.

“Yes, heda,” he nodded again.

“Good,” she slapped his shoulder and smiled as he lurched forward. “Because I am quite certain that my daughter will be able to hold her own against you.”

“Without a doubt,” he nodded again.

“She loves you,” Lexa slapped him again. “This wasn’t so bad, right? Asking her will be much more difficult.”

For a moment, he smiled worriedly, as if those words were not so much a consolation, and more of a threat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke and lexa having a knock-down, drag-out fight about River.

The fire burned high and heavy with the anxious addition of wood and scraps to it despite the blaze burning their cheeks. It had been a long time brewing. It had been necessary.

“She’s not just yours!” Clarke threw her hands up. “You have all of this pressure heaped upon her and you don’t even understand how you do. But she is killing herself to be like you.”

“She can do whatever she wants!” Lexa argued.

“You know that’s not true!”

They seethed across the room while the fire cracked wood and dried it, scorched it, broke it. The fight rage quietly beneath the surface until it dried and sparked and caught flame quickly and without hesitation.

“She’s neither of ours,” Lexa muttered, poking the fire once more, a nervous habit, something to do with her hands so she didn’t have to meet her wife’s eyes. “She chooses what she chooses.”

“And you think the hours of stories of warriors and acts of valour haven’t influenced her?” Clarke explained. “I want better. I thought you wanted better for our daughter.” She leaned, angry and distracted, against the table, watching her wife’s back move.

“And your hands are bloodless? I am the ruthless killer, still, after all these years,” Lexa jammed the stick into the fire, temper getting the better of her. “I am the one who is making her a killer. I am the one who cannot talk to her. I am the one, right, Clarke?”

“You know I don’t think that,” Clarke dismissed it absently, though Lexa refused to hear her.

“You must.”

“I’m worried,” Clarke tried.

“Because she might be too much like me.”

“Not at all! I love you. I love the different parts of you. I’m just terrified of the things she may do.”

“She’s growing up,” Lexa shook her head. “She’s almost as old as we were.”

“We were too young. We were too young, Lexa.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Still, the two were opposites, were far away from each other. Were different and angry and worried and scared, so very scared. The fire broke and the flare in their cheeks calmed. Lexa watched her wife, watched her think, liked that face, loved to watch her think. But right now the Commander was contemplative and full of wrath, ready to be directed at whatever she could pinpoint that was not her wife. For the love of all things, not at her wife, she sighed.

“I don’t know,” Clarke shrugged.

“I want her to be Commander one day. But in the history of our world, since the books you read to me began to tell stories, there has never been a time of absolute peace. Not one. Every generation has a war. The Bible is filled with war. The history of the world is a series of chapters of war ending and beginning on various scales. Our daughter may be the first without a war, if we raise her right. If we make the hard decisions now, as we have.”

“I don’t want her to be Commander.”

“Because it’s been so great for me.”

“You’re right, Lex, I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate everything you’ve ever done,” Clarke tossed her head and threw up her arms. “You know that’s stupid. I’m grateful River has your decisiveness, has your fearlessness, has your brains. I just don’t want her to feel the weight of her decisions like we do.”

“This is the world we live in,” Lexa reminded her wife.

“I don’t know how to watch this happen.”

The two stood across from each other, across the room, an impassable handful of feet the only thing separating them. But it was too much for even the most skilled travellers, and so they remained.

“I just want her to be safe.”

“I know.”

Clarke watched her feet kick the dirt. Lexa watched her watch. They remained stuck.

“You cannot protect her forever,” Lexa shook her head. “And you cannot hate me for preparing her.”

“I don’t hate you,” Clarke managed. “I just hate that she chose you.”

There was a defeated sigh from her wife, Lexa heard it across the room. Not once had she ever seen her look like that, defeated, beaten, giving in. There was an instant of a twinge of victory Lexa felt before she pushed it away, ashamed of it, suddenly, disliking that part of herself.

“When our daughter was little, she found a dead baby bird. It had fallen from the nest,” Lexa started. “The other babies were chirping above us and she looked between the two, up and down, up and down, and she knelt over this tiny, dead thing and she asked me to fix it.” Lexa found herself smiling, despite it all. She took the task of walking towards her wife. “I told her I couldn’t fix it. That he was dead and sometimes that happened. And she looked me square in the eyes, mad, she was shaking. Remember how she used to shake with this quiet anger? She was simmering at the idea of death. Absolutely outraged at me for being ineffective. And she told me that if you were there you could fix it. You were a healer and you fell from higher and you survived. You were magic.”

Lexa let her hands rest on her wife’s shoulders, she hung them there, heavy and imposing, but that was the only way she could do it.

“She is so much like you,” Lexa promised. “She did not choose me. She wanted you, to be you, but you are a legendary magician. And she can’t really be that in this world. All I have is teaching her fighting, which she detests, and how to lead, which she isn’t eager to enjoy, either. You are the sky to her. She does not want to know about your job, the realities of it. She wants you to be this force and this magician forever. I’m her safe choice. I’m reality.”

“The older she gets, the more useless I am,” Clarke set her chin.

“You made her smart and strong and brave and so beautiful,” Lexa disagreed. “I gave her calluses on her hands.”

Clarke slid her arms around Lexa’s ribs, felt her wife hug her neck. There was quiet and calm now, the sting of words fading with the salve of touch.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke murmured, resting her forehead on Lexa’s shoulder, hunching into her.

“She’s not a competition,” Lexa explained.

“I know that. I just don’t like it.”

“That’s she’s growing up?”

“That you’re considering making her Commander.”

“We can wait until I die, but by then she’ll have a herd of pets and beasts.”

“She’s too young.”

“I agree.”

“Then why are we fighting?”

“You’ve been itching for it all day,” Lexa shrugged.

She felt Clarke laugh against her neck and they swayed and hugged and sighed.

“I’m interrupting,” River appeared home, Dolf in tow, slight frown on her face at the sight of the display. She was not foreign to the small displays of affection between her mothers, in fact she grew up amazed by their peacefulness. But sometimes she was overwhelmed by their love in ways she never quite understood.

“Your mom forgot she fell from the sky,” Lexa informed her.

“That’s one of the best things,” River shook her head.

“Help me keep her on the ground,” Lexa smiled, squeezing Clarke. River joined, wrapping her arms around the both of them, until Clarke wiggled and laughed.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. The tiny family remained huddled together, the blonde between her favourite people. The wolf danced around them, whining and confused by the bunch of them, wanting to be involved somehow.

“We love you. You can’t fly away,” River insisted.

“You’re too old for a space story,” Clarke decided.

“Never,” her daughter decided.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa and clarke find out that river is dating thomas.

“Don’t forget the sheets from six,” Clarke called over her shoulder to her work-study student. Lanky and tall, he was quite deft with his hands and incredibly knowledgeable already. Top of his class and volunteering to work with her, Thomas did everything asked of him with no complaint, including laundry.

He had a real job already, in the afternoons when he was done with classes. He would go to the stables and work with the horses, cleaning stalls, his hands calloused and hard from the work. He spent a few hours on top of that in the clinic or forest looking for plants for Clarke. His shaggy hair reminded her of a curly mop, dirty, almost-brown and matching his eyes. She took a liking to him.

“How did this happen again?” the healer looked back under the cloth covering her daughter’s forearm. She eyed her suspiciously while Lexa shifted awkwardly beside the bed.

“Tripped,” her daughter nodded. She met her mother’s eyes before looking back at the other.

“Did you trip and fall on anything?” Clarke sopped up the blood.

“Just the ground.”

Lexa remained quiet, afraid to open her mouth while Clarke scooted around on her stool, digging for supplies. She gave a small smile to her daughter with a wink when the healer’s back was turned. The truth of the matter was that they were out exploring the old tunnels they found and part of a track fell through and her daughter cut it on a piece of rusted track. But that was a truth they couldn’t tell because Clarke had forbid any excursions there. But sixteen was old enough, Lexa decided. Plus they liked to find treasures and show them to Clarke. She hadn’t expected this part.“

"So you fell over your own feet?” Clarke asked, pouring the liquid that made River burn and hiss.

“Yeah,” she lied. Clarke rolled her eyes and stared at her wife as she patted the gash. She pulled a needle from the drawer and loaded it before jabbing into her daughter’s leg with no warning. “Damn, Mom,” River complained.

“You can get tetanus from rusted out metal,” Clarke ignored her complaint. “From not listening to your mom.”

“How’d you know?”

“You two aren’t exactly criminal geniuses.”

“I told her it was alright,” Lexa stood a little straighter.

“I told you no,” Clarke looked at River firmly. “You shouldn’t have worked on your mom behind my back. And you,” she looked at Lexa who was smart enough to sheepishly stare back. “I have words for you later.”

“It was just a trip down to see what we could find,” River tried.

“You never know what could be down there, or what could happen,” Clarke explained, pulling out the needle and tread again. It was something she grew accustomed to with her daughter. “You two hopping down there like your invincible is a problem. Because you’re not. Those walls are probably unstable, who knows what diseases and animals are down there. There is nothing good for you to find.”

“I found this,” River held up a coin. “That’s pretty cool, right?”

“A dime. I have to give you a shot and stitches for a dime?”

“I thought-”

“A dime?” Clarke guffawed and shook her head, sarcastically amused. “Oh, it’s okay. You found a dime.” She laughed and railed.

“It was my fault,” Lexa offered.

“You’re both grounded,” Clarke didn’t look up from her work, pulling the first stitch through the skin as River grimaced slightly, though tried to remain strong.

“You can’t punish-” Lexa stopped as Clarke looked up at her.

“I would be very careful with your words,” her wife insisted, looking back down after a second.

“I’m sorry,” River offered.

“Listen, I know you think I’m terrible for not letting you do things, but it’s to protect you. I can’t keep you from much, but the things I do say is because things like this can happen. And what if it happens where we can’t get to you, or you’re stranded? What if this had been your leg and your mother couldn’t get you out of the tunnel? I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed in how you handled this.”

Her daughter was too ashamed to look up at her, and it carried over to Lexa. She knew she deserved the scolding and anger that Clarke was holding in to speak so levelly to their daughter. She earned it.

“Thomas, will you wrap up my daughter here and escort her home?” Clarke called the boy who finished making the beds for the night.

“Yes, ma'am,” he nodded eagerly and moved to the back to grab a wrap.

When he returned, only Clarke’s daughter remained sitting on the bed looking down and testing her arm.

“You should be more careful,” he sighed, tenderly slipping the cotton near her elbow.

“Not you, too,” River sighed.

“Listen, I don’t care what you do, but every time you get hurt it puts my boss in a sour mood, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of trouble.”

“Not because you don’t want me to get hurt?”

When he looked up for a moment he met her eyes and swallowed hard. She knocked him over so his head barely worked and his feet could sing.

“You always try to prove yourself to the Commander,” he looked away. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, don’t do that,” she shook her head and leaned back. She liked the feeling of his thumbs pressing softly against her bare arm. “Don’t make this into some complex.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he shrugged.

“Do you know what it’s like having a parent who saved the world?” she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before watching him work. She liked his hair in the summer when she shaved it off, and he presented his pale head for her to touch the short, soft hairs, the length of winter clinging in locks to his shoulders. “Try having two.”

“They just want you to be happy.”

“Maybe I’m happiest when I’m most like them.”

“I’m supposed to escort you home,” he reminded her, tying the last bit of cloth.

“Not too shabby,” she held her arm up.

“You give me lots of practice.”

With a quick hop, River was out of bed. She kissed Thomas just as fast and gave him a small grin.

“Don’t be mad. I’m made of stars and dirt. Nothing can hurt me.”

* * *

Her arm healed, as it always did, and River did her best to refrain from getting her mother into more trouble, though the two of them seemed to find it too easily. Clarke held a sore spot for a day before asking them eagerly about what it was like, just as the Commander predicted, though River would never say. What no one would ever understand was the she didn’t want to be them, or do what they had done, she only wanted to fulfill each of their dreams and make them proud, and she was often unsure of how to do that.

“Come by the clinic later so I can take those out,” Clarke told her daughter as she gathered her books for class. “And you stop by later to kiss and junk,” she told Lexa.

“Am I still grounded?”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m almost out of here,” River complained between bites as she loaded a bag. “Can’t you wait?”

“You better go fast,” Lexa explained. “I… can’t… resist…”

“You better be at your classes today,” Clarke said as Lexa wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned on her shoulder. “I don’t want to check.”

“Are we going to Polis next week?” River grinned.

“I think we should,” Lexa nodded. Both mother’s earned excited kisses. “Ah, that’s all she needs. The promise of a trip.”

“Let’s go, Dolf,” River patted her leg as the thing stretched his legs and shook, standing quickly to follow.

“Don’t forget. This afternoon!” Clarke called as she disappeared.

“Love you guys!”

True to her word, River went to class. She didn’t mind it as much as she protested, but she disliked having to listen to so much talking. She was a fan of quiet, of solitude and pondering, and not much for the books that Thomas devoured and explained. She liked the way he explained them, though.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, breezing into the clinic in search of her mother, as promised.

“Your mom just stepped out.”

“Maybe I was here for you.”

“Are you… serious?” he swallowed hard and watched her approach. She laid her books down on an empty bed and stalked him as Dolf curled into his normal spot on the ground by he radiator.

“Nah,” she smiled. “I’m here for Mom.”

“Come here,” he grinned. He was prone to do that. River liked that about him, how eager he was to smile, how vibrant he was with a quiet form of living. He kissed her a second later, pulling the curtain closed around the bed.

That was how Clarke found them a few minutes later as she wretched it open, her daughter beside her assistant. Not one of them hid their horrified expression well.

* * *

“Hello beautiful,” Clarke slid her arms around Lexa as she sat at the table at home. The old radio played an old cassette to break up the quiet while Lexa wrote a letter informing some friends of her arrival in Polis by week’s end. Clarke kissed her cheek a moment later.

“You’re in a good mood,” the Commander observed as her wife stood beside her, leaning against the table.

“I just know we have a few hours before our daughter gets home,” Clarke shrugged and watched Lexa put her pen down slowly, the realization of what her words meant seeping in finally. “And I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk, or talk?” Lexa ventured, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Well, that depends on how you take my news.”

“Please be good news,” Lexa sat back in her chair, pleading, eager. “I want to talk.”

“Our daughter is seeing Thomas.”

“Who’s Thomas?”

“My assistant.”

“Seeing him?”

“Dating him.”

“That’s impossible,” Lexa laughed and shook her head. “She hasn’t said anything.”

“She didn’t want to scare him away. Apparently we can be a little intimidating.”

“Seeing him?”

“You know… like hanging out, talking, kissing.”

“They aren’t… talking are they?”

“No.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Lexa looked up at her wife, slightly heartbroken at that realization.

“She thinks we’ll disapprove.”

“Well, we do,” Lexa threw up her hands, slightly exasperated. She stood and began to pace, unable to sit still. “Why didn’t he tell me? I asked your mother. And that was terrifying.”

“She was nervous.”

“She’s supposed to be able to tell us anything,” Lexa pleaded with her wife, anger seeping into her muscles. She was not a fan of surprises.

“She knows she can, but somethings you just want to keep to yourself for as long as you can, you know?”

“I’ll be back,” Lexa decided.

“Where are you going?” Clarke sighed, oddly disappointed they wouldn’t be talking.

“To kill him,” Lexa shrugged.

“Don’t kill him.”

“To maim him.”

“Don’t maim him.”

“Seeing my daughter without even asking.”

“She told him not to.”

“Kill him.”

“No.”

“Threaten him.” Lexa paused by the door after she finished pacing, looking at Clarke for permission.

“Fine,” Clarke nodded, tossing her hand flippantly. “Just threaten.”

“Threaten.”

“I’m going to go talk to myself.”

“Have fun.”

Clarke was left alone in the house feeling oddly victorious that it had gone as well as it had.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Ice Nation army is marching forward towards their land, there isn’t time for plans; they have to leave now.

Deep and dark was the night as it settled atop the quiet forest. On a normal day, there would be frost upon the grass in the morning, the dew freezing just slightly, the chill radiating up from the very ground itself until the sun slowly tiptoed above the trees and feet kicked away the layer of early cold. But the scouts returned and told of a different day unfolding. As the village slept, as the trees swayed in their slow, shrinking way while the sky grew tight and crisps, while the Commander’s tent grew overheated and argumentative, time marched by much too quickly.

Clarke found herself standing in the back, watching her wife make decisions, watching her daughter stand beside her, hand on the hilt of her sword. Clarke hated herself too much to hear anything, she already knew how her wife would move. She spent the time disliking how much like herself her daughter had become. She looked like Lexa, paint on her face, braids, the same knot of brown hair, the same shoulders, the same jaw, the same cheeks, the same severity and deceptively honest openness and hope in her eyes. But she stood there, defiantly ignoring the Commander’s order to accompany their people to the Mountain. She stood there, stupid and burdened by duty and Clarke saw her own foolish youth like a birthmark in her daughter’s smile.

As Lexa stood from the throne, her rousing speech sending various warriors and advisors to different places, explaining the different strategy, highlighting different important things, Clarke watched her move, watched how powerful she was and remembered when she’d been younger than their daughter and doing these same things.

The tent emptied and Clarke knew her part, knew that her place was with her people while Lexa rode out there into battle, knew that she should meet her mother at the clinic and help to move her people and supplies, knew that their homes could be gone in the morning with the force that was marching towards them. Lexa grabbed River’s arm as she moved to follow Octavia, hungry and dying to prove herself.

“This isn’t a walk or a trip, this is battle,” Lexa whispered to her daughter. “Treat it as such.”

With a small nod and bashful eyes, she looked at Clarke who remained stoically focused upon the map on the table.

“You knew this might happen one day,” River offered, walking towards the healer. “This is who I am.”

“If you were less like me, you’d be a healer,” Clarke realized, looking up sadly, firming herself.

“I’m not dying.”

“Be careful out there. Be smart. Be safe.” Clarke pulled on her daughter’s hair, touching their foreheads as the taller girl bent slightly and closed her eyes, her mother’s palms covering her ears, keeping her still and quiet and there. “Please come home.”

“This is my fight. I do not decide.”

“Decide to come home,” Clarke urged her, eyes on fire and hands tightening.

“I will.”

“Go see Tommy,” Clarke nodded, not letting go. She set her jaw and kissed her daughter’s forehead. River took a step and felt her mother’s hands drop before she turned back and held her cheeks and kissed her forehead as well, hugging her tightly.

As she left, Raven promised to meet her mother at the gate with the horses, her duties as Second not forgotten. The Commander stopped her and hugged her, something not allowed once she left the tent.

“I have dreamt of fighting beside you since the day you were born,” Lexa whispered, wary of Clarke hearing such things, knowing how severely she would regret it. She held her daughter’s neck and held their foreheads together as well. River smiled, this mischievous, wolfish grin that Lexa earned when they decided to skip class and ride to the lake, or when they snuck candies after Clarke warned them of impending stomach aches. She shared it for a moment and patted her cheek.

The quiet of the room was ominous as Clarke looked up only to see River smile once more at her and exit. A weight settled upon her chest that felt like the first time her daughter broke her leg and she was called to the clinic with only the words that she’d been hurt, as if part of her own being had just been bruised, as if in this moment, part of her own being just walked away, cocksure and bloodhungry.

“It has been a while since we’ve done this,” Lexa sighed, adjusting her belt.

“Do you still know how to use that thing?” Clarke nodded towards her sword.

“She will be alright.”

“I know,” her wife lied. Lexa felt the steady drum of her own feet approach Clarke.

“I will keep her in the back. You know she would not willingly miss this.”

“You’ll be able to keep them out, won’t you?”

“We have messengers sending for help which should arrive just after dawn. We will not let them ruin what we have.”

“Come home,” Clarke held her wife’s cheeks, slipped her arms around her neck as arms slid around her waist.

“Don’t I always?”

“I will lock the doors, but I will be outside. We will set up medical for the wounded.” Lexa furrowed, heavy and debating her options as Clarke challenged her.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Just once, I would like for one of my girls to respect my orders. Just once. Between my daughter and my wife, I do not know who is more insubordinate.”

“You’ve surrounded yourself by princesses. We take no orders.”

“I love you, Clarke of the Sky People,” Lexa whispered, smiling as she was kissed.

“Come home.”

For just a moment they stood there, quiet and warm, before stepping out into the chaos that erupted, turning the night into a circus of commotion. Lexa kissed Clarke’s hand, firmly in her own before dropping it and stalking off to the gate to meet with the generals as they reported back and made ready. It would take a few hours to reach the mountain, and Clarke knew what she had to do, taking over her role as leader.

* * *

There was a tenseness to the moments before dawn. Lexa sat atop her horse as it toed the ground and grunted. The mist and frost dissolved as the sun knitted its way through the tall trees. The first shots of snipers and archers rang out as the grounders waited for the first sight of the Ice Nation.

Lexa looked at her daughter beside her, leaning over and rubbing her hand along her horses neck, whispering it things. Dolf sat beside her, muzzle showing grey, though still eagerly following her wherever she went, even battle.

“You will come with Octavia and the third wave, when the reinforcements arrive,” Lexa instructed, eyes peeled and skimming the ground below them.

“Mom… Commander.” Lexa smiled as River grew impatient.

“Your mom is a battle I will always lose. I’ve grown to accept it.”

“I am coming with you.”

“Just once,” Lexa sighed and adjusted slightly.

The noise of the retreat reverberated through the trees, shaking them as bodies hit the ground and blood was pooling in puddles at their roots. Lexa pulled her weapon from the body as it gasped and hit the ground. Frantically, she searched for her daughter as her people cheered. Blood splattered on her face, some already drying on her face. She only saw Dolf with blood on his teeth after gnawing on a neck. He had a cut on his shoulder and he limped towards Lexa after making sure the attacker was indeed dead.

Still, Lexa took a few steps and called for Indra to continue following, to finish their mission, to get some people taking wounded back to the village. No where could her daughter be found. Lexa limped slightly, her ankle having been rolled earlier.

“River!” the Commander called, walking around, looking for her. “River!”

“Yeah?” Her daughter appeared a few feet away, and suddenly Lexa could breathe. She had matching blood on her face and her teeth were showing in her smile, chest heaving, invigorated and alive and there.

“I told you to wait!” Lexa yelled.

“I got bored.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“I’m fine,” she groaned, sheathing her sword and wiping blood along her forehead. Lexa stepped over bodies and approached her. “I think I got more than you.”

“You’re going to be chopping wood until you fell this forest.” Lexa earned a grin and sigh from her daughter as she made her way forward.

A movement caught her eye, an arm pulling back, the glint of steel in the risen sun. She was on her back a second later, a pain shooting through her ribs as she dove in front of her daughter. True to her breeding, River threw her own weapon and killed the attacker before her mother hit the ground, not even verifying the kill, assured it was, she knelt to check on the Commander.

“Mom?” she rolled her over, noticing the blood already seeping from her side.

Lexa gasped, her eyes opening wide, head rolling slightly to the side. She had short, shallow gasps and that was all and not nearly enough.

“You’re going to be alright,” River promised, hovering over, eyeing the entry of the blade. She held her hand there around the weapon, not moving it. She watched her mother look past her at the sky coming between the trees. The ground was no longer cold, but instead warmed and full.

“I. I. I.” Lexa caught her breath and held it before searching for more. She lifted her head to look at the wound, how it struck her in the ribs, beside her heart. She smiled and let her head fall back.

“Indra! Octavia! Bellamy! Someone!” River called, letting go of pressure for just a moment before hurrying to reapply. Anxiously she looked around. “I need help! Get my mom! Get the healers! Hurry!” Feet sprinted towards her and away from her as she looked back down. “It was meant for me,” she yelled at her mother, pushing harder on her ribs, her hands growing wet with blood.

“You’re my daughter,” Lexa coughed slightly.

“You’re going to be alright, Mom,” River promised. Lexa was distracted by how beautiful she was with the sun sprinkling in behind her. She looked like Clarke, her jaw, her cheeks, her nose, her optimism, her assuredness.

“I am so proud of you,” Lexa whispered, her mouth tasting blood, though dry suddenly. “You are the best thing. I have. Ever done.” The edges of her eyesight grew dim, and all Lexa could think of was seeing the sun as it turned green through the needles of the swaying trees.

“I need a tube,” River ordered as Bellamy and Indra arrived.

“Commander!” the warrior knelt down, ordering others to their duties. Bellamy searched for anything. “What happened?”

“I can’t remove this. She’ll bleed out. Her lung,” River lifted her head after pressing it to her mother’s chest.

“Clarke,” Lexa mumbled, smiling. Her toes felt cold. River bit the inside of her own cheek and frantically pushed against the wound. “She was the best thing.”

Bellamy looked at his niece and they both knew that if anything happened to Lexa, Clarke would not be much better. River gritted her teeth and ran her hand along her mother’s forehead.

“It’s okay,” she promised.

“I am supposed,” Lexa’s breaths grew shorter, shallower. “To come home.”

“We have to get her back,” River decided. She ripped Lexa’s shirt and tied two sticks around the knife, the fabric of her own belt tightening around her mother.

“Clarke,” Lexa smiled and looked at the sun as her daughter lifted her from the ground. She climbed onto the horse and held her mother’s slumping frame, her blood pooling and puddling on the ground.

River took off as quickly as she could.

“Please hold on,” River tossed over her shoulder. “Stay awake.”

“I taught you to ride,” Lexa said, leaning against her daughter’s back.

River kicked her feet as fast as she could, urging the horse forward, Dolf following in the same sprint despite his limp.

“Clarke,” Lexa sighed.

“Mom, you have to hang on. We need you. I’m sorry.”

“River. I made you. So good,” Lexa grinned.

“Come on,” River kicked once more.

“The best thing. The best.” Lexa was barely breathing. “I am proud.”

“It’s okay,” River whispered.

The injured arrived back at the village before the healers. Word of the retreat came to the mountain shortly after. Clarke and the healers were the first gone, the scouts still checking the forest before the village returned.

“Clarke!” Octavia called, riding into the gates with the slow influx of those too wounded to give chase to the retreating invaders.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked, arms full of equipment. Octavia huffed and caught her breath as she slid off of the horse. “Is it River? Where’s River?”

“It’s the Commander,” Octavia met Clarke’s eyes and saw fear for the first time in the many years she’d known her. The packages in her hand fell to the ground.

“Where is she? What happened?” Clarke looked around, as if she’d find an answer somewhere.

“I can take you. She was stabbed, right here,” Octavia pointed towards her chest. “She can barely breathe and she’s bleeding.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Clarke nodded.

The commotion near the great increased as River rode her horse through the crowd, pulling the reins and stopping near the tables. Clarke saw her wife slumped as her daughter slid quickly and caught her, gently cradling her. There was too much blood on both and Lexa’s face was ghostly pale and ashen.

“Get Thomas and Marcus and you. I need you to stay close. You’re all type O. We’re going to need it,” Clarke instructed, sprinting towards her daughter. “River! What happened?”

“Someone came, we thought they’d left, I missed him. I missed him,” she said quickly, clinging to her mother. “I tied it up as best I could so it wouldn’t move. She lost a lot of blood. It’s my fault,” she kept saying as she carried Lexa inside.

“Go get your grandmother,” Clarke saw the blade deep in her wife’s chest, so close to her heart, close to everything important. She checked her pulse and found it there, but barely.

“It’s my fault,” River repeated, blood dripping from her fingertips as she stood there and her mother went to work. “I should have done something. It’s my fault.”

“You didn’t do this,” Clarke turned to her. “Go. Go get your grandmother!”

“She said she was proud of me,” River was stuck. “Your name. She said your name. Fix her, Mom.”

“I will,” Clarke nodded, finally getting River to meet her eyes. “Go get your grandmother.”

Gently as she could, Clarke tapped Lexa’s cheeks until she stirred. Her breathing was tight and weak.

“Lexa, come on,” Clarke whispered. “Stay awake for me.”

“Clarke,” Lexa smiled, eyes fluttering. “I came home.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t want to,” Lexa swallowed and tried to lift her hand. “Don’t make me go away.” She looked towards her wife worriedly. “I want to stay.”

“Stay,” Clarke kissed her softly. “Stay. I’m going to fix it.”

“Okay.” Lexa smiled, wanting to laugh at how absurd her request was.

* * *

There were tubes coming from the Commander. The other beds of the clinic were full of those in bad shape as well, with even more tubes, even paler skin, even worse wounds. River stared at her mother. Thomas held the cottonball to his elbow and stood, slightly wobbly from donating much more than he knew he should, but he’d bleed himself dry to make his wife happy.

Clarke saw them as she stared at her wife in bed. Saw Thomas wrap his arms around River as she hid in his chest, tiny and wounded and shaking. He kissed her hair and murmured tiny things while her shoulders vibrated with quiet sobs she couldn’t hold any longer. Clarke sat beside Lexa and ran her thumb along her knuckles, waiting, waiting, always waiting for something.

The wolf rested his head on the bed, nudging Lexa’s fingers with his cold nose, hiding beneath her other hand, refusing to move. The clinic was full of healers, full of people coming and going from the Commander’s bed. Clarke ruled from there, by default, no one questioning her will as set in stone.

“I’m sorry,” River sat on the ground beside the bed, leaning against Clarke’s thigh. She felt like a little girl. Her mother ran her hand through her hair.

“It’s not your fault.”

“That should be me.”

“Your mother loves you so much that she didn’t think at all. It was pure instinct. And you think she’d let you ever lay there?”

“I should have done something.”

“You did well.”

“She kept saying your name.”

“We did everything.”

“How do we do it without her?”

“She’s going to be fine. She came home.”

* * *

The funeral was three days later. Clare sat beside the body when it went cold, even when River walked out of the tent and sprinted into the forest, the wolf torn and wanting to follow, but unable to keep up while injured. Instead he howled by the gates and laid his head on Lexa’s arm still, licking her hand occasionally.

Clarke ran her knuckles along Lexa’s cheeks, along her lips, along her hair, repeatedly, memorizing what she could, afraid of forgetting what she looked like already while staring at her.

Thomas removed the wires and tubes, anxiously fluttering around the area after failing to find his wife.

The morning of the funeral, Clarke left the body, placing one kiss on her lips one final time. She walked out of the gates a few minutes later in search of her daughter. She walked along the lake where she saw Lexa dipping the baby in the water, where she saw Lexa throwing River into the deep end, over her head, when she got older, where Lexa pulled her tight in the middle of the night and carried her into the deeper parts to swim together, Intertwined. She found no one there.

Clarke made her way up a familiar trail where she saw Lexa with River on her shoulders, pointing at certain things, where she saw Lexa on horseback, their daughter in front of her, steering as they walked slowly. All was quiet in the world.

By the time she made it to the top of the mountain, the sun was rising, and she saw her wife, skin warm and brimming with life under her fingertips like every other dawn that ever existed between them.

Only when she approached a familiar rock did Clarke put her hand up to the handprints there, her own, Lexa’s, tenderly she pressed her own on it, their daughter’s tiny and sloppy.

“Go away.”

Clarke climbed and sat beside her daughter on the rock. It was perilous, but the only place from which their village could be seen, as far as the ocean on a clear day, they could imagine seeing farther.

“You have to come now.”

“I can’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. You must.”

“It’s my fault.”

“I need you.”

Tentatively, Clarke slipped her hands into her daughter’s. River rested her head on her mother’s shoulder with a heavy sigh, brow furrowed and angry, she squeezed her hand.

“It’s not your fault,” Clarke whispered.

“I don’t know who I am.”

“Yes you do.”

“She loved me so much, and I did this to her.”

“You didn’t.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” River lifted her head and threw away her mother’s hand. Clarke let her worry before insisting on holding it again, wrestling her tighter.

“I could never hate you. She made her decision. I would have done the same thing.”

“I miss her.”

“I know. I miss her, too.”

“It doesn’t seem real.”

“I’m going to crawl into bed tonight and sleep for the first time without her for the rest of my life. I just realized that. And I can’t remember the last time I told her I loved her.”

“I’ve been watching the herd of horses. The buckskin is ready to give birth. Mom’s favourite has been acting weird. I think he’s the father.”

“I wished I believed in reincarnation.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s believe in it then,” Clarke whispered. “I can think of nothing more fitting for your mother than a wild horse.”

“She said she was proud of me.”

“We are.”

“I never told her how proud I was of her.”

“She knows.”

“I don’t know who I am.”

“You’re your mother’s daughter.”

High atop the mountain, the two sat and looked out at the forest. Beneath them in a field, the herd of horses stood and smelled at the air. The sky was bright for now, as the sun was between the impending clouds and the crust of the world. There was the sound of noises slipping in from the village, from the world.

Clarke put her arm around her daughter, still so tiny and so young and so alive. She kissed her braids and she dug her nose into her hair and smelled the world right there, just as she had when she was still a baby.

“When you were a baby, Mom wouldn’t put you down. She would lay you over her arm and rub your back and try to teach you how to talk. You were about four months old, and she was trying to teach you words. She wouldn’t sleep, just pace with you in her arms. She couldn’t stand to put you down.” Clarke felt her cheeks grow wet and hot for the first time since the code. “She said, look at this. We made this. This. This is what we will be remembered for. This is the best thing we will ever do. She wouldn’t put you down.”

Clarke looked at the sky and blinked, hoping she would stop crying because she was so painfully happy.

“Do not feel anything but love right now,” Clarke whispered. “She surrounded us with love. She will keep surrounding us with love.”

River began to cry though she refused to make a noise. She hugged her mother tightly.

After the funeral, Clarke went to the tent and laid down in bed. She didn’t move at all, but simply watched the light disappear over the hours of the day.

It wasn’t until it was completely dark that she heard someone approach her home.

“Go away.”

She had no tears left to cry, and her voice was so tired.

The only movement was River crawling into bed with her.

* * *

The mare had her foal two days after the funeral with both Clarke and River watching from their spot atop the mountain. It’s mane was jet black, it’s body blue and grey with its face nearly dripping in black, like the spots it had accumulated there and were smudged around the eyes.

Clarke smiled and laughed and held her daughter’s hand as they watched it walk, stumble, kick and jump, and sprint, finally.

* * *

On the first day of summer, River walked towards the field. The baby snuggled in the wrap around her chest as she rubbed her back through the sling.

From high on the mountain, her mother sat on the rocks and watched her daughter approach the herd of horses. She’d always marvelled at River’s knack for simply existing in the world, in the forest, as if she’d sprung up from the earth herself and was born from the base of a series of roots or plucked from a tree.

River tossed apples to the horses before sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the meadow, adjusting the baby in her arms. Just two months old and already the mother saw her husbands hair, her mother’s grey eyes and cheeks, her own ears. The baby was a wondrous addition, something the entire village lauded as a fresh breath of air under the smog of the Commander’s death.

Dolf sat at Clarke’s feet, never leaving her when she left the gates, almost sensing Lexa’s absence. The mother watched her daughter sit on the edge of the field and she felt her lungs squeaking in their cage.

Slowly, the blue roan appeared, already growing and tall, the smudges a mess upon its face, its body dark grey, almost like Dolf’s when he was just a pup. River tossed part of an apple towards it as it walked towards her hesitantly. It ate what was thrown and approached again, slowly lifting its feet until it was searching for apples in River’s hand.

With a small snort, it nudged its long nose into the sling in her lap, the way it inhaled messing up the small hairs on the baby’s head. River smiled and rubbed the horses nose before giving it another apple before lifting up the baby and rocking her in her arms.

“I understood why you did it,” River nodded and watched the baby suck on her finger. She looked up at the blue roan that stared at her before leaning forward again and smelling the baby. It snorted and the baby fussed, making River smile. “The moment I held her, I understood.” The horse backed up at the small noise of the baby. “This is Alex.”

River looked down at the baby and ran her fingertips along her cheeks. The horse lowered its head and nipped at her foot before she gave it another apple.

From high on the mountain, Clarke watched the young horse lower its head and shake its mane. She leaned back on the rock and let the sun fall upon her, almost believing it to be her wife’s fingertips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clarke and Lexa’s love for each other through River’s eyes.

Though the night was dark, the tiny feet still knew their way through the small home. Deft and precise, they padded along as the little girl pushed hair from her face, her braids were taken out at bedtime and now her hair rebelling with its freedom in her eyes and mouth. Her room was suddenly too large, too empty, too much for her little brain to comprehend. She tried to be brave, like her moms, but it was hard.

She followed the murmuring in the other room and when she reached the doorway she froze to hear it. In the dim light of the candles she saw her mother without her braids as well, watched her mom drag her fingertips through it while they spoke and giggled, and River forgot what she was afraid of for a moment. Clarke kissed Lexa’s forehead while she quietly laughed, shaking her head in disagreement. Suddenly, the little girl felt intrusive, with no where left to go other than back to her room and scary dreams.

“We have a visitor,” Lexa whispered, her body like water, the bones relaxed fully from it. She let Clarke raise her head to spot the shy little girl with hair just as wild as her mother’s.

“What are you doing up, honey?” Clarke smiled. “What’s wrong?”

“My room was scary,” River mumbled, afraid to enter their room, slightly ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, my love,” Lexa lifted her head from Clarke’s shoulder slightly.

“Tavia said the Mountain Men can get me if I’m not careful.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Lexa grumbled, sharing a look with her wife that made her almost positive she wasn’t joking about the threat.

“There are no more Mountain Men,” Clarke tried to calm both of them. “Come here,” she lifted the sheets as the little body ran and jumped, crawling in beside her. “Octavia tells stories that aren’t real.”

“But the Mountain Men are real,” River insisted, disinterested in settling in bed, too expressive in her words and movements and beliefs. “Macon says his dad said they were monsters that ate people.”

“Come here,” Clarke tried again, pulling the blankets around them so she had both of her girls resting on her shoulders. Across her chest, in the dark, River met Lexa’s eyes.

“Your mama took care of all of them,” Lexa promised, moving the hair from her daughter’s cheeks.

Gently, Clarke began to run her fingers through their hair, relaxing their sore scalps. She kissed the identical heads of hair and blanketed her neck and she smiled at the two little warriors in her arms. Her daughter’s knees jutted into her ribs, her wife’s shoulder into her side, but it didn’t matter.

“The Mountain Men are just a scary story,” Clarke whispered. “You’re safe.”

“Do you want to watch Mommy beat up Auntie Tavia tomorrow?” Lexa eyed her daughter who nodded eagerly.

“Lexa.”

“I was talking about you, not me,” her wife informed her.

“Shh, the two of you,” Clarke sighed. “There’s nothing to be scared of, but you both should sleep.”

“I like when Mama does this.” Lexa watched her daughter close her eyes and smile as her wife’s fingers gently pushed the hair on her temple. She felt the similar movements on her own head and smiled as well.

“Me too,” Lexa agreed, finally closing her eyes.

Both fell asleep before Clarke allowed herself to stop her movements. A tiny little hand gripped her shirt, while Lexa’s arm wrapped around her side, including their daughter. Still, Clarke soothed their worried minds and closed her eyes, inhaling every inch of the moment.

* * *

The sun was gentle and the breeze was heavy, but it did not deter her at all. Nearly eight and genetically predisposed to being an over-achieving perfectionist, River stalked her prey, careful to watch where she stepped, careful to move slowly, and with purpose, careful to be silent, careful to do everything her mother had taught her. The field was waving in overgrown grass while the trees were clad in little buttons of baby buds eagerly turning their wobbly heads towards the sun.

Something spooked it, though River was certain it was not her. The frog hopped into the creek and she stood, too slow to catch it, mud covering her knees and arms. Dismayed and sulking, she trudged out of the tree line towards her family, smearing a bit of dirt on her chin as she itched away her frustration.

In the field beneath the old Magnolia tree, the white buds fuzzy and stretching and soft to the touch in the nascent state, she saw her mom’s head in her mother’s lap, heard them laughing. When she was close enough, she stalked them as well, eager to get a foot up on her mother in this never-ending game they played. But she caught herself observing them, something she was suddenly aware of never doing. The Commander bent over and kissed Clarke’s forehead before adjusting her legs and settling against the hard bark of the tree. Clarke absently sketched and smiled as she told the story about the old days.

It was not that her mother was not friendly, or loving, or funny, or mean, but she was not prone to moments of relaxation, or better yet, moments of unguardedness. But River saw this moment, the petals from early flowers falling like soft, velvet snow, and the Commander, so quick with a blade, so deadly with a weapon, so violent with those eyes and wrath, River watched her gently lift a petal from her wife’s forehead and run it along her cheek and neck, watching it move in her fingers with the greatest interest.

“You are as pale as this petal,” Lexa chuckled.

“Is that a hint?”

“We need more days like this.”

“You don’t think I’m pretty like a flower?”

“I think the flowers bloom solely with the hope of one day touching your cheeks and lips and neck like this flower has.”

There was a pause. River moved around the grass, bent and sleek like her mother taught her, ready to hop out and finally catch her off of her guard. But her mom sighed and pulled on her mother’s neck and kissed her, and she refused to interrupt that moment.

“If you will excuse me,” Lexa smiled against her wife’s lips and got up quickly. River stepped back and cracked a branch she so nimbly avoided. Lexa’s head snapped and River was scooped up a second later, giggling and thrown over her mother’s shoulder. “Look what I found. A feral beast was hunting us.”

“It looks a bit mangy. Maybe you should skin it,” Clarke laughed, shielding her eyes and watching Lexa spin them around, her daughter’s hands stretched out and skimming the tall grass.

“I think I’ll give it a bath and train it.”

“I’m not a wild animal.”

Lexa stopped moving and sat her daughter standing before kneeling beside her quite seriously. River held her shoulders to make the world stop spinning. With a small movement, the mother dipped her hand down into the ground and wiped more dirt on River’s nose.

“I don’t ever want to hear you say that again,” she said with a small smile, stern and enjoying this moment. Her daughter’s small hands felt sturdy on her shoulders, felt important, made her feel necessary in ways she never realized she could be. “You are a wild creature. Made of dirt and stars. You’re a wolf and a fawn and a fish and a sparrow. Never forget it.”

“I can be all of those?”

“You are all of those things.”

“I almost had you.” The smirk and the squint to her eyes was a mirror in which Lexa saw her exact look. It was difficult to suppress her smile.

“You did.”

“Is Mama a wild thing?”

For a second, Lexa looked over her shoulder at her wife who was sketching before looking back at her daughter. She had Clarke’s eyes. Clarke’s chin. Clarke’s brains.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Lexa whispered, earning an eager nod. Her daughter’s hands moved to her cheeks, holding her face close to her own. Lexa felt important. Felt necessary. “She’s not a wild thing. She is firm, and fair, and steady, like the sky, like the moon. Wild things fall in love with these things.”

“One day I will love someone like you love Mama, right?”

“That is the only thing I can hope for you.”

“What if I fall in love with a wild thing?”

“I loved another wild thing once. Wild things are hard to love. Harder to love when you are a wild thing yourself.”

“Are we hard to love?” River furrowed, still holding her mother’s cheeks, her palms squeezing slightly with worry.

“I am, but you are irresistible. I don’t know one person who doesn’t love you. Probably because you are made of stars and dirt, and I’m just made of dirt.”

“How can I love you, and we are both wild things?”

“That is because we are the same. There are many different wild things. You and me? We are the same kind of wild thing.”

“Love is confusing.”

“It is,” Lexa smiled and kissed her daughter. “Until one day it isn’t.”

“I’d rather shoot my bow than fall in love.”

“Spoken like a true wild thing.”

There was a pride in that, that River felt. It came in the wink her mother gave her when she finally stood, kissing her forehead once more and pushing the hair behind her ear.

* * *

The house was dark and warm, though it was daylight outside and snowing still from the night before. River sat at the kitchen table and ran her blade along the stone her mother had given her while watching the people come and go, between fetching fresh water and rags.

She heard the murmuring in her parent’s room, and she was forbidden from entering, which only made it worse. So River sat in the kitchen and waited for the Commander to come out and ask her to run another errand. All she wanted to do was to see Clarke, to see her mom who had been in bed, sweating and apologizing since the night before.

Her grandmother arrived before dawn, as River sat eating breakfast alone, a rarity in their home. With a small hug, Abby leaned down and kissed River’s head before knocking on her moms’s room and entering with her bag. That was a handful of hours ago, and still, her grandmother was in there, still, her mother had not come out and already many generals had come to speak with her, but were turned away.

When the door opened, River moved her head to try to look inside, though she saw nothing. She watched her mother come outside, hands on her hips, head drooping and shaking. River watched her pace a few steps before resting her hands on the back of a chair across the room, she watched her mother’s shoulders set and grow rigid before she lifted the chair and smashed it against the ground repeatedly until it was nothing more than splinters. Quickly, River stood and backed away slightly, watching Lexa heave her laboured breath, eyes distant and aching before meeting her daughter’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she swallowed and dropped the last pieces of wood left of the chair. “I just.” River had never seen her mother so lost or so sad. She ran her hands along her cheeks, trying to find words.

“Where’s Mom? Is she okay?” she moved a few steps closer.

“She’s fine,” Lexa promised. “She’s just not feeling well.”

“Grandma’s in there, I know it. What’s happening?”

“Everything is okay,” her mother repeated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…”

“Something is happening and everything is not okay,” River argued.

“Everything will be alright,” Lexa promised.

“I want to see Mom.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I have to see her.”

“Tomorrow.”

“She needs me!”

“River!” Their voices grew as their shoulders puffed. “I said not today!”

All of twelve and very much her mother’s daughter, Lexa stared at her, wanting to say so much. Clarke would have known what to say, what to do. But Lexa was ill-equipped, and the events and realizations of the day wore heavily on her, eating her limited patience and capacities. When she was angry, River looked like her, Lexa knew, and she saw the severity of her eyes and the grudge that was forming against her.

“I’m sorry, love,” Lexa sighed, deflating herself, unable to keep up with it any longer. “Can’t you just trust me, for today? Just give your mom until tomorrow.”

“Is she sick?”

“She’s not feeling well.”

“I want to see her.”

“Please, River.” She’d never heard her mother speak like that, and it took her aback slightly. With a relinquishing nod, River simply ground her teeth together and breathed out her anger. “Go find Indra and help with whatever needs done today. Please don’t run off.”

“Okay.” Tall and slender, thick with braids, shoulders narrowed though covered in the fur of her first kill, River walked towards the door, sheathing her weapon as she moved.

“Hey,” Lexa stopped her as she walked past. She hugged her daughter and kissed her braid a second later until she felt her daughter’s arms wrap around her as well. Dumbly, she clutched there. “I’m sorry for behaving like that. I swear your mom is alright. She just needs rest. I love you.”

“I just want to help,” River grumbled.

“You are so old and smart and wise,” Lexa observed, rubbing her thumb along her daughter’s cheek, still red with her outburst. “But there are things we still protect you from. Can you understand that?” She nodded slightly. When she met her mother’s eyes she saw how glassy they were, how so un-leader-like they were. She swallowed slightly at the observation. “Mama is going to need you. Believe me. We have to be strong for her.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, love,” Lexa sighed, adjusting her daughter’s coat.

River spent the day doing odd jobs for the warrior, running ragged until she had done everything asked of her, and more, because she did not want to go home. Slowly, she trudged through the accumulating snow after dark. When she returned, the fire was high, but the candles were low, and the house sounded almost empty. She hung her coat and kicked off her boots, careful to be quiet and not disturb her mother, for as worried as she was, she knew whatever was happening was important, and she could not interrupt it.

Quietly, her grandmother slipped in as soon as she began to search for dinner.

“Hey, honey,” Abby greeted her granddaughter with a plate of food.

“How’s Mom?”

“She’ll be okay in time. I brought food because I figured you’d starve.”

“Can I see her?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” the grandmother nodded. “She lost some blood, and she’s just sad. These things take time.”

“Is she in pain?”

“Just some cramping.”

“What can I do?” Abby smiled at her worried granddaughter and kissed her forehead once more as she had done in the morning.

“Nothing, honey. These things happen. The baby just wasn’t meant to be.”

From her seat, River felt her bones freeze and her muscles melt at the realization of what happened during the day. She heard her grandmother move around and fix a few things before telling her granddaughter she’d return in the morning. River could do little more than nod as she left.

When she could walk again, she picked up the remaining pieces of the broken chair and stacked it with the wood. She cleaned the dishes, cleaned up the rags, all the while her head spun and she replayed her stupid argument with her mother and the stupid looks Indra and Octavia had given her during the day, and she hadn’t even known.

The house was quiet, but still she stood beside her moms’ door and leaned her forehead against it, wanting so badly to have something to say or do at this moment, and suddenly so very much understanding the Commander’s actions and weariness.

Quietly, she pushed open the door anyway, because this was important, and as afraid as she was, she was twice as brave. Her mother said they had to be strong for Mom, and she could do that. She was strong and she was there.

For a moment, River wished she was five again and simply afraid of the dark. She saw her mother cradling her mom, saw her kiss her face while she apologized. Clarke simply rested her head on Lexa’s shoulder while the Commander rubbed her arm, kissed her every which way.

River didn’t close the door again, but simply went to her room.

* * *

The night was cool, a refreshing change from the scalding heatwave of the day. Dolf lapped at the lake before settling on a rock of his own while River looked to the skies, head balanced on her palms tucked behind her, elbow precariously close to touching Thomas’.

“That one is my favourite,” Thomas pointed to the stars, outlining one as best he could. “Centaurus.”

“I don’t understand how you remember all of these.”

“To impress pretty girls with.”

“You might want to try something less nerdy,” River offered, despite the smile she hid and the blush on her cheeks.

“I play to my own strengths.”

“Why is it your favourite?”

“The story of Chiron, half-horse, half-man, he taught Hercules. And he was supposed to be immortal, but he was wounded and begged to be killed. So Zeus put him up there.”

“Half-horse, half-man?”

“Yeah, isn’t that great?”

“I think I might be a centaur,” River realized, turning her head to see his reaction. She had a sneaking suspicion he was not a wild thing, but she had to make sure. He was of the stars, and that could be enough.

“I think it fits you well,” he turned to look at her. “You’re kind of untamed.”

“My moms say I am made of dirt and stars, a wild thing.”

“Maybe you’ll be a constellation one day.” Still, the boy watched her while she looked back up into the stars and pressed herself harder into the dirt. He watched her grin and dream and think and he could wait for years to hear her speak.

“You know, I never understood the talk my mother gave me until this moment. She said my mom was steady like the sky, and she was a wolf, a wild thing. It’s hard to love a wild thing. I think it might be hard to love me.”

That was what kept him hooked, he realized, that she said things like that. River could spout out precisely what she thought, so concisely, so passionately, so honestly, that it was disarming, and Thomas wanted more of it. He knew before she said it that she was a wild thing, born of dirt and stars. It didn’t matter. He’d be happy for just this moment.

“The Commander and Doctor seem happy though.”

“Do you believe in soul mates.”

“Not really.”

“I don’t, most of the time,” River nodded. “But if you ever get the chance to watch them, I mean really watch them. I think it will change your mind a little.”

“So the Commander is a wolf and is hard to love, but somehow it works?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I think you’ll be alright.”

“Who’s going to want a half-horse, half-girl?” River smiled and looked at him again, oddly disoriented to find his eyes.

“I think you’re asking the wrong questions. I think the better one is who are you going to let keep you. That’s what all wild things decide for themselves, not have decided for them.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” she grinned, turning back to her stars.

They sat in the quiet, in the crickets, in the lapping of the lake and the distant howling of wolves that made Dolf perk up his head. The night and the rocks grew cold and River shifted closer to him, accidentally, biologically, organically, until she as on his arm as her pillow. Thomas froze when it happened, when her body warmed his side. If he knew one thing about wild creatures, it was that they do not like to be leashed, so he remained neutral and exploding inside.

“When I was little, I used to make up stories about love, but all epics were nothing compared to my moms. Maybe seeing them together has ruined me completely.”

“Maybe it’s taught you how much love can exist in the world.”

“You’re really hard to bring down, huh? You’re like the ultimate optimist.”

“People argue about glasses being half-full or half-empty, and I’m just glad there’s a glass, you know?”

“That pep might get annoying.”

“Says the half-horse. You’re quite a neigh-sayer.”

“This might be the moment you blew it,” River laughed, rolling over slightly into him, hiding her loud giggles in his bicep. Thomas felt her hand on his chest and knew that he had done nothing of the sort. The only thing he had to do was prove that she could have what her parents had. He was incredibly daunted by the prospect. But Hercules once lifted a river. Surely this would be easier.

* * *

There was not a day that River did not witness her mom sneaking off to the rocks atop the mountain after the Battle took her mother. Not a day that Clarke did not watch the blue roan, kicking and showing off in the field. Not a day that Clarke was not aware of how empty she felt, how devoid of something she had become. River saw it only because she’d seen her full.

It was amazing that she lasted as long as she did, River realized, looking back on it. Deep down, she knew it was because of Alex, because of the little girl that Lexa never met, that kept Clarke around and not gone from a broken heart sooner. But those things tend to add up, like a pinprick in a dam wall eventually turns into a flood. River knew that her granddaughter had been a temporary fix for the dribble in her heart. And she knew that Jake was another distraction from her broken heart. And when he came along, Clarke decided to wait a while.

She watched her grandchildren grow up, and she refused to look at anything else. She taught Jake everything she knew about medicine, she taught Alex everything she learned from Lexa, until one day, River noticed a change in her mom, something that defied all other explanation other than the dam broke and her heart was too weary.

The day after they found Clarke in the field beside the blue roan, they found the horse dead as well. It was only in that moment that River felt the immenseness of loss upon her. It was nearly impossible to acknowledge that the world itself felt different, now that the two souls met and were gone at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could you do one where Clarke tells Lexa she is pregnant and how Lexa becomes super protective of Clarke and how would both skaikru and trikru react like its the Commander and Skaiprisa kid so there must be a like a ceremony or festival for the child maybe it would be a prequel to Commander Princess and maybe a bonus where Lexa gets really angry with people touching or getting near Clarks baby bump I love your writing and I just love the Commander Princess ones

“Are you…?” Lexa tried. 

On the chair opposite the bed, Clarke anxiously waited for some kind of reaction, some kind of sign of life from her wife. 

Lexa tried though she couldn’t manage much. She opened her mouth and closed it just as quickly with the thought and murmur still on her tongue. On the edge of the bed, she sat, elbows balanced on her knees, fingers steepled and covering her mouth that closed once more, back bent and eyes staring.

It felt like eternities passed since anyone spoke. Clarke watched the furrow grow deeper, the mountain’s of the Commander’s brow became prominent and impassable. 

“Really?” she managed, still confused and stuck in disbelief. Her eyes never moved from Clarke’s hand that covered her stomach. 

“Yeah, really,” Clarke smiled. Quickly it turned into nerves as nothing else followed. Instead, she got more brooding, more silence, more stillness from the Commander. “I need you to say something.” 

Her words did nothing to make the Commander move, and if anything she watched Lexa retreat further, with a million more thoughts playing across her eyes. When her mother told her for certain, confirmed it beyond a doubt, she didn’t believe it either. And when she thought about telling Lexa, she wasn’t sure what to expect, though this was about on par with her average guess. 

Lexa moved her chin so that her fingers ran up over her lips, a move Clarke recognized as her contemplative face. Her fingers wound together and she balanced her chin on it, wary and unsure. 

It took a long time. It took longer than Clarke could have imagined or that she would have wagered, but sure enough it started with an inch that must have been the hardest fought battle the Commander had ever waged. 

For the first time that she could remember, Clarke watched Lexa’s hand move, unsure and timid. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” Clarke promised. She moved only to pull out a piece of paper from her back pocket and held it up. “I didn’t believe it either. I thought it didn’t work, but look. I had my mom take a picture.” 

“This is…?” 

“It doesn’t look like much,” Clarke promised, growing nervous at the stoic nature of the woman she loved. In most situations it was a source of strength, but for this in particular, she absolutely hated it. “The head, is right here,” her finger traced the outline. “This is a leg. And that’s about all we can make out. In a few weeks, we’ll be able to see–”

“This is…” 

“Yeah.” 

There was something that softened in the sternness, something that shifted in Lexa as she looked at the picture. She swallowed the lump in her throat and felt so much fear she thought she’d never be the same. All of the fears of the world flashed through her muscles, through her head in the instant, coupled with this joy that was indescribable. All of it was too much for her. It deafened her. It paralyzed her. 

But she leaned forward. Lexa looked at the picture she didn’t quite understand one last time, put it beside her on the bed, inched forward and tentatively reached her hand out until it was flat against Clarke’s stomach. When it made contact she inched forward even more, pressing her palm there as her mouth went dry. 

“We are going to have a baby,” Lexa whispered, awe weaving through each syllable of her words. “A little… perfect… Clarke, are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.”

It only took a minute. Clarke didn’t get to have an entire appreciation of it, of Lexa’s reaction, before her hand retracted and she stood, walking to the other side of the room. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have things to see to,” Lexa muttered, tying her belt once more after having stripped all of the accoutrements of her station after entering her bedroom for the night. 

“It’s late. I’m sure things can wait. What could be so important–”

“There were scouts that saw movement in the south and the hunters from the eastern border were attacked.” 

“Those are all tomorrow’s problems.” 

“The wall needs to be fixed, and the well in the Garden District is getting low for some reason.”

“Lexa,” Clarke tried, walking towards her as she tried to get dressed again. 

“There is a lot to do.”

“Lex.” 

“So much to get done. And not a lot of time. I should have a meeting with the rest of the deleg-”

“Lexa!” In their room, in the quiet of the late hour, they stood, rooted in space and unable to do anything else. “I just told you that I’m pregnant. I need more… I need more words from you about that. You can’t just leave.” 

“You’re having a baby!” Lexa roared back. “I have to… I have to… There are so many things that I have to get fixed… there are so many things that can hurt it.” 

“Lexa,” Clarke paused, shaking her head. She didn’t want to, but a laugh escaped. She chuckled to herself as she plopped down on the bed where her wife had just been. “You are worried,” she wiped her yes and kept laughing. “You are worried about scouts and wells because-” 

“Why are you laughing?” Lexa huffed, balancing her hands on her hips, strong and firm. 

“Come here,” Clarke shook her head and tried to regain some composure. It was a difficult thing to regain as she watched Lexa cross her arms. “Lexa, come here.” 

“Mockery isn’t the product-”

“I know, I’m not mocking. I find it insanely endearing, actually, that your first reaction,” Clarke grinned and nudged her head as her wife begrudgingly walked towards the bed. “Your first instinct is to try to save the world when you hear that we’re going to have a baby.” 

Lexa just furrowed once more and let her wife tug at her belt, tossing her weapons to the side. 

“Do that thing again,” Clarke murmured as Lexa sat. She sat up a bit straighter. “Touch my stomach again and go back to that happiness I saw all over your face.” 

“I am happy.” 

“I know, but just. Don’t freak out.” 

“I never thought I would… I just,” Lexa swallowed and met Clarke’s eyes. She saw that she was happy and bursting and glowing and ecstatic and she was certain that her own face was nothing but afraid, something that she was vastly unaccustomed to feeling or exhibiting. 

She didn’t have words, most of the time. Almost everything that came to her wife left her speechless, and this moment was no different. Once again, she was confronted with an instant in which Clarke expected more from her than she was capable of giving, and so she had to peel herself open and let it out despite not knowing how. 

There wasn’t a pause. There wasn’t a gap or a moment for her to worry any longer. Clarke took her wife’s hand. She kissed her palm, even through her smile, and she placed it on her stomach once again. 

“A baby, Lexa,” Clarke whispered. “We’re having a baby.” 

“Yeah,” Lexa took a deep breath, watching her hand cover her wife’s stomach. She watched it move with each breath and she remembered the picture of the blob. 

Lexa couldn’t stop herself. She leaned forward and kissed Clarke. Grabbed her by the shirt and tugged and kissed her so hard she was afraid she’s break, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her lips moved and then turned into a smile so that she couldn’t even kiss anymore. 

“I have so much happiness right now,” Lexa sighed, leaning her forehead against Clarke’s. “I don’t know what to do with it all.” 

“You don’t go trying to baby-proof the world in one night,” Clarke chuckled. “We still have a few months to do that.” 

“You should rest. Be laying down. Do you need anything?” the Commander pulled away. 

“Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to put up with this for the next six months.” 

“That’s my baby in there,” Lexa nodded, not hearing Clarke’s protests at all, but instead realizing it despite not fully realizing it. “A little baby. My little baby. Our baby. Our child.” 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re having a baby.” 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re having a baby?” Lexa repeated, her voice cracking slightly. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t think anything after this moment will ever be the same.”

“See? This is the reaction I was looking for.”

* * *

“Where is she?” Lexa yelled, stalking through the Ark. As much as she hated to even be in the monstrosity, she bore it eagerly with the wrath of her orders going disobeyed. “My wife! Where is my wife!?” 

Even after all of the years, after the time spent assimilating to the ground, the grounders, each other, the halls cleared as the Commander walked through, flanked by a few advisors in full gear. 

Clarke heard the commotion outside and smiled to herself as she finished putting the information into the tablet. She smiled and finished drinking her water, counting down to the inevitable. By the time the doors burst open, she was amused by the thought of her wife riding across the land when she found out Clarke came back to help her mother. 

“You left Polis!” Lexa stomped in. “Out!” she turned and yelled at her followers. She paced until the door closed. “I get word hours later that you’ve up and left. Now. When we have reports of roving factions and with winter coming. Do you have any idea!” 

“No no,” Clarke stood, pushing herself up and taking a little extra time. “You don’t get to come in all like this.” 

“I get to-”

“No. Try again.” 

Clarke watched her wife grit her teeth, the muscles of her jaw buckling under the pressure. Her nostrils flared as she bit back the words that would normally come if Clarke wasn’t, at the moment, running her hand along her protruding belly, reminding her to keep calm, or at least calmer than normal. 

“It is a long and dangerous trip.. in your state,” Lexa took a breath, finding it difficult to keep a measured tone to her voice. 

“In my state? Lexa, I’m pregnant, not dying,” Clarke scoffed. “My mother needed help and I am sick of sitting around the city with you hovering.” 

“No. You’re going to listen to me,” her voice rose slightly. “I don’t care,” she held up her hands weakly. “I don’t. I don’t care that I hover and it annoys you. That’s my baby. That’s my baby in there, and I’m going to hover.” 

“I’m fine. I’m more than capable of-”

“I know. You’re a rock and strong and independent, but I’m telling you right now, that I don’t care.” Tired and exhausted from the trip and her own worry and fear disguised as anger, Lexa tossed up her hands and shrugged. “I don’t care at all. You can get mad at me all you want.” 

“You can’t storm through the Ark like you own the place.” 

“I just did.” 

“Lexa.” 

“You left, Clarke!” she yelled again. “You left without telling me. What else was I supposed to do?”

“We have radios for a reason.” 

“That is my baby in there!” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s stomach, eyes wide and still upset. “And you left and I didn’t know where you two were. Do you know how many things could have happened between here and there? You didn’t have to spite me just because I, what? I annoy you, because I take precautions for you and –”

“I’m sorry.” 

“The baby. I’ve become aware of all the horrib- You’re what?” 

“I said I’m sorry,” Clarke sighed, taking her seat again and tossing her pen down, aware that she was wrong in some weird way. 

“Well, alright,” Lexa nodded, furrowing and confused by the turn of events. She expected more of a battle. 

Baffled, the Commander nodded, as if she knew what she was doing. She had more to vent about, but Clarke already conceded, and so it felt like bad taste to keep going and add anything else, as much as she wanted to keep going. 

“I won’t do it again,” Clarke decided. 

“Okay. Well. Are you alright at least?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Because your mother said you weren’t to be on horseback.” 

“I brought a rover.” 

“Alright.” 

“Come here,” Clarke tried, patting the bed by her chair. “I have something to show you.” 

“I don’t like that you just disarm me so quickly. I was so angry the whole way here. No what do I do with it?” Tired and still confused, Lexa sat on the bed. 

“Well, you made the trip. I think I can make it worth your while.” 

Lexa sat, stumped and feeling her anger sizzle off of her like a haze in the summer, no longer boiling just below the surface. She was accustomed to holding onto her fights with Clarke for days. This was a new turn of events, because rarely was she correct, and rarely did her wife admit it, even if that happened. 

“Remember when I showed you that picture?” Clarke wheeled a little machine towards the bed and took a seat. 

“I rode the whole way here because I was so scared,” Lexa shook her head, still distracted. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“You wanted to make me angry. This was all… This was your plan. Make me angry and then just apologize so that I can’t be mad.” 

“Hey,” Clarke interrupted, smiling as she was discovered. “Shh. Listen.” 

There was a faint bubbling noise that came a moment later as she moved something around on her stomach. Lexa turned her head and watched as Clarke stared at the monitor, fixed and focused. 

“What’s that?” 

“That’s the heartbeat,” Clarke smiled. “That’s the heartbeat of our baby.” 

“The heart… beat…” Lexa swallowed, staring wide eyed at the stomach. She looked around for a moment, as if confused. 

“And this,” her wife turned the screen and pointed at the image. “This is her.” 

“Her?” 

“Her.” 

“That’s her nose, and her head,” Clarke outlined. “There’s a leg, and a foot, an arm.” 

“Little Heda.” 

“Don’t start with that,” Clarke groaned and then laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so excited to see commander princess up again! the ending absolutely ruins me every time, would you ever consider doing an alternative ending like the subway? like, what would their ending have looked like if river was hit by the knife? im a sucker for sad endings and yours are the best!!!!!!!

Deep and dark was the night as it settled atop the quiet forest. On a normal day, there would be frost upon the grass in the morning, the dew freezing just slightly, the chill radiating up from the very ground itself until the sun slowly tiptoed above the trees and feet kicked away the layer of early cold. But the scouts returned and told of a different day unfolding. As the village slept, as the trees swayed in their slow, shrinking way while the sky grew tight and crisps, while the Commander’s tent grew overheated and argumentative, time marched by much too quickly.

Clarke found herself standing in the back, watching her wife make decisions, watching her daughter stand beside her, hand on the hilt of her sword. Clarke hated herself too much to hear anything, she already knew how her wife would move. She spent the time disliking how much like herself her daughter had become. She looked like Lexa, paint on her face, braids, the same knot of brown hair, the same shoulders, the same jaw, the same cheeks, the same severity and deceptively honest openness and hope in her eyes. But she stood there, defiantly ignoring the Commander’s order to accompany their people to the Mountain. She stood there, stupid and burdened by duty and Clarke saw her own foolish youth like a birthmark in her daughter’s smile.

As Lexa stood from the throne, her rousing speech sending various warriors and advisors to different places, explaining the different strategy, highlighting different important things, Clarke watched her move, watched how powerful she was and remembered when she’d been younger than their daughter and doing these same things.

The tent emptied and Clarke knew her part, knew that her place was with her people while Lexa rode out there into battle, knew that she should meet her mother at the clinic and help to move her people and supplies, knew that their homes could be gone in the morning with the force that was marching towards them. Lexa grabbed River’s arm as she moved to follow Octavia, hungry and dying to prove herself.

“This isn’t a walk or a trip, this is battle,” Lexa whispered to her daughter. “Treat it as such.”

With a small nod and bashful eyes, she looked at Clarke who remained stoically focused upon the map on the table.

“You knew this might happen one day,” River offered, walking towards the healer. “This is who I am.”

“If you were less like me, you’d be a healer,” Clarke realized, looking up sadly, firming herself.

“I’m not dying.”

“Be careful out there. Be smart. Be safe.” Clarke pulled on her daughter’s hair, touching their foreheads as the taller girl bent slightly and closed her eyes, her mother’s palms covering her ears, keeping her still and quiet and there. “Please come home.”

“This is my fight. I do not decide.”

“Decide to come home,” Clarke urged her, eyes on fire and hands tightening.

“I will.”

“Go see Tommy,” Clarke nodded, not letting go. She set her jaw and kissed her daughter’s forehead. River took a step and felt her mother’s hands drop before she turned back and held her cheeks and kissed her forehead as well, hugging her tightly.

As she left, River promised to meet her mother at the gate with the horses, her duties as Second not forgotten. The Commander stopped her and hugged her, something not allowed once she left the tent.

“I have dreamt of fighting beside you since the day you were born,” Lexa whispered, wary of Clarke hearing such things, knowing how severely she would regret it. She held her daughter’s neck and held their foreheads together as well. River smiled, this mischievous, wolfish grin that Lexa earned when they decided to skip class and ride to the lake, or when they snuck candies after Clarke warned them of impending stomach aches. She shared it for a moment and patted her cheek.

The quiet of the room was ominous as Clarke looked up only to see River smile once more at her and exit. A weight settled upon her chest that felt like the first time her daughter broke her leg and she was called to the clinic with only the words that she’d been hurt, as if part of her own being had just been bruised, as if in this moment, part of her own being just walked away, cocksure and bloodhungry.

“It has been a while since we’ve done this,” Lexa sighed, adjusting her belt.

“Do you still know how to use that thing?” Clarke nodded towards her sword.

“She will be alright.”

“I know,” her wife lied. Lexa felt the steady drum of her own feet approach Clarke.

“I will keep her in the back. You know she would not willingly miss this.”

“You’ll be able to keep them out, won’t you?”

“We have messengers sending for help which should arrive just after dawn. We will not let them ruin what we have.”

“Come home,” Clarke held her wife’s cheeks, slipped her arms around her neck as arms slid around her waist.

“Don’t I always?”

“I will lock the doors, but I will be outside. We will set up medical for the wounded.” Lexa furrowed, heavy and debating her options as Clarke challenged her.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Just once, I would like for one of my girls to respect my orders. Just once. Between my daughter and my wife, I do not know who is more insubordinate.”

“You’ve surrounded yourself by princesses. We take no orders.”

“I love you, Clarke of the Sky People,” Lexa whispered, smiling as she was kissed.

“Come home.”

For just a moment they stood there, quiet and warm, before stepping out into the chaos that erupted, turning the night into a circus of commotion. Lexa kissed Clarke’s hand, firmly in her own before dropping it and stalking off to the gate to meet with the generals as they reported back and made ready. It would take a few hours to reach the mountain, and Clarke knew what she had to do, taking over her role as leader.

* * *

There was a tenseness to the moments before dawn. Lexa sat atop her horse as it toed the ground and grunted. The mist and frost dissolved as the sun knitted its way through the tall trees. The first shots of snipers and archers rang out as the grounders waited for the first sight of the Ice Nation.

Lexa looked at her daughter beside her, leaning over and rubbing her hand along her horses neck, whispering it things. Dolf sat beside her, muzzle showing grey, though still eagerly following her wherever she went, even battle.

“You will come with Octavia and the third wave, when the reinforcements arrive,” Lexa instructed, eyes peeled and skimming the ground below them.

“Mom… Commander.” Lexa smiled as River grew impatient.

“Your mom is a battle I will always lose. I’ve grown to accept it.”

“I am coming with you.”

“Just once,” Lexa sighed and adjusted slightly.

* * *

The noise of the retreat reverberated through the trees, shaking them as bodies hit the ground and blood was pooling in puddles at their roots. Lexa pulled her weapon from the body as it gasped and hit the ground. Frantically, she searched for her daughter as her people cheered. Blood splattered on her face, some already drying on her cheeks. She only saw Dolf with blood on his teeth after gnawing on a neck. He had a cut on his shoulder and he limped towards Lexa after making sure the attacker was indeed dead.

Still, Lexa took a few steps and called for Indra to continue following, to finish their mission, to get some people taking wounded back to the village. No where could her daughter be found. Lexa limped slightly, her ankle having been rolled earlier.

“River!” the Commander called, walking around, looking for her. “River!”

“Yeah?” Her daughter appeared a few feet away, and suddenly Lexa could breathe. She had matching blood on her face and her teeth were showing in her smile, chest heaving, invigorated and alive and there.

“I told you to wait!” Lexa yelled.

“I got bored.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“I’m fine,” she groaned, sheathing her sword and wiping blood along her forehead. Lexa stepped over bodies and approached her. “I think I got more than you.”

“You’re going to be chopping wood until you fell this forest.” Lexa earned a grin and sigh from her daughter as she made her way forward. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Tenderly, much more tender than she could ever remember her mother being, River let the Commander run her hands over her face, over her shoulders, lift her arm and check for cuts. It took only a minute for her to be satisfied that she was no worse for wear. 

“Watch out!” a flash of steel caught her eye behind her mother and Lexa felt herself be pushed aside. The length of the blade sunk into her thigh, but River killed the attacker. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Lexa promised catching her daughter as she fell to the ground, the body of the soldier half covering her, the weight of it too much for her wounded leg. 

“Mom’s going to kill us,” her daughter gritted, eyes fluttering slightly.

* * *

“Get back in bed!” 

“Come on.” 

“You have to listen to me for once,” Thomas said, hands on his hips as he stared at the unruly patients. The wolf had enough sense to lower his head and curl back up on the pile of rags on the floor. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” his wife rolled her eyes and stood there defiantly, bandage still stained red at the gash mark despite stitches and a few days of healing. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he stood a bit taller, towering over her as she glared murder back. “Get back in bed and heal.” 

“Okay, I got hurt once, at the end, but that’s no reason to treat me like a child.” 

“Don’t act like a child then.” 

“I just want to go for a walk.”

Her husband didn’t say anything, just stood there and crossed his arms. He watched his patient grind her teeth, gnash her jaw, furrow her brow, purse her lips. She sat back on the bed in a huff, the heavy cloud on her cheeks never blowing over, and certainly not disappearing as he failed at hiding the triumph in this victory. 

“I had to pull a knife the size of my forearm,” he explained quietly, pulling up the sheets and helping her adjust. “Out of my wife’s leg. And promptly patch her artery so she didn’t die out in a matter of seconds.” His hands were callosed, but they were sweet and calm against the bandage as he unwound it. “For just a few days, can you let me pretend that you are safe and healing? Because I could have lost you, right in my own hands. And it was a lot.”

It softened her slightly, as she watched him check the stitches, watched his hands move and re-wrap the cloth. 

“It was just a walk,” she sighed. “I’m going crazy in here.” 

“I know,” he nodded, pulling the sheets up over her hips. 

“I told you it was hard to love me,” River grinned. 

“Some days are easier than others,” Thomas agreed. “How are you feeling? Beside the leg? No more nausea?” 

“It comes and goes.”

“I’m going to ask Abby to check a few things. You might have blood poisoning from the blade, or infection from the-”

“You’re kind of sexy when you get all doctorish on me,” the warrior half-smiled at Thomas. 

“Oh?” he cleared his throat a bit. 

“I’m not used to you all bossy like this. You’re cute when you’re frazzled.” 

“I don’t get frazzled.”

“Your hair’s getting long,” she observered, tugging his shirt to kiss him. 

“Please stay in bed. I promise I’ll figure something out by tonight to get you mobile. Just wait.” 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you,” he kissed her again, humming against her lips. “I think your moms will be in soon anyway.” 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

“Say something,” River sighed, leaning on her crutch. 

“Are you…?” Lexa swallowed and looked at her wife before looking at her daughter. “Really?” 

“Eight weeks,” Clarke promised. 

“Oh my…” Lexa smiled after a moment. “This is… amazing news!” She hugged her daughter tight, nearly knocking the crutches from her hands. She wobbled but accepted it eagerly. “A baby.” 

“Be careful,” Clarke chided. “Let her breathe.” 

“A baby!” Lexa hugged her wife as soon as she dropped her daughter. “A baby!”

“We broke her,” Clarke winked at her daughter over her wife’s shoulder. 

“Have you told Thomas?” 

“Not yet. Tonight,” River smiled as her mother approached her again, placing her palm against her stomach. It was warm and gentle and she smiled to herself at the gesture. 

“A baby,” the Commander whispered, smiling widely and looking back at her wife.

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Lexa asked as her daughter took a seat on the edge of the rock near the edge of the cliff. The horses kicked and played in the field below, the babies running across clearing. 

River ran her hand over her belly out of instinct, not even thinking of it at all. 

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

“You still have a few more months of worrying.” 

“Look at that one,” River ignored it, happy to be outside the gates and healed enough so her husband didn’t give her that grumpy expression when she left. “I wish I could get close enough.”

“I’m sure you will.” 

“I can’t sleep.” 

“Your mother told me.” 

“Of course she did.” 

“River.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The sun was still behind them, slowly creeping towards the horizon and stretching the shadows by yards and yards until they seemed to streak across the ground in unending stripes. 

“It was different, than you thought it would be. The battle…” Lexa struggled with this talk. Her wife prepped her, told her to have it, to be supportive, but in truth, Lexa was incredibly uncomfortable with such fragile things. 

“It’s nothing.”

“When I found out about you, I was… terrified,” the Commander nodded to herself. Stoic and calm, she sat, her eyes not moving from the horses in the field. “I could not imagine holding you in these hands that have done terrible, horribe things, that have caused pain. I thought I’d break you, that’d I’d hurt you or ruin you.”

“I see their faces. Every kill.”

“There’s a redemption in doing something good. I made you well. You are the greatest thing I’ve ever done, because I was so afraid of ruining you, I worked harder to be worthy of being someone you could love. You will understand in a few months when you hold it.”

“What do I do now?”

“Forgive yourself. You cannot hold a grudge against your actions because you were surviving, protecting your family, your people. If you had not done what you did, I’d be dead, your mother woul dbe dead, Thomas, Octavia, Bellamy, your grandmother, Indra. Every kill protected them.” 

“It’s hard.”

“You are the best thing I’ve ever done. This baby will be the best thing you do.” 

“She likes you,” River grinned, placing her mother’s hand on the belly. 

“A future Heda.” 

“No way. She’ll write books or play music. She’s never touching a sword,” River disagreed. 

“You were supposed to be a builder or a farmer. And yet, here you are. The spirit chooses.”

“Mom says she’ll be worse than I was. Harder to raise.” 

“Good luck.”


End file.
